The Haradrim Situation
by quillon
Summary: A sequel to The River Poros. Eomer and Lothiriel discover each other, but bigger events threaten to keep them apart. Contains Faramir & Eowyn pairing as well.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Though I wish that these lovely people were more than just friends of mine, they are not, nor shall they ever be, sadly.

A/N: This is a sequel to "The River Poros", which I finished some time ago. If you stumbled upon this story without reading the other first, you will probably be quite lost, so go read it! I thank you all for your patience with me and hope that you enjoy reading this story as much as I am enjoying writing it. Thanks to Rosie26 for her support and help!

THE HARADRIM SITUATION

Èomer  
  
I read the letter that had arrived from Éowyn with no small amount of shock. My sister was pregnant! I was to be an uncle at last. But as I read on, I realized that something horrible must have befallen her husband. Always she and I have been as close as a sister and brother could be, but never had she told me before that she was in need of one of my hugs.  
  
Despite the fact that spring had arrived and it was the midst of foaling season, and therefore, the busiest time of the year in the Riddermark, I knew that I must go to her and see for myself the seriousness of the situation. I knew that the people of Rohan were certainly strong enough to do without their king for a few weeks so that he could see to his sister's needs. Her words seemed a bit cryptic to me, and I hoped that she was being entirely truthful when she said that Faramir was well again. Though he and I had gotten off to a rocky start when the grave man of Gondor had first brought his relationship with Éowyn to my attention, I had slowly warmed up to him in the months since then, for he treats her as befits the sister of the Lord of the Mark. And though I felt at first that Faramir, merely the Steward of Gondor, was far beneath Éowyn's royal status, he proved himself very worthy of her, his honor and nobility both unquestionable. Had his quality been found lacking, I would not have allowed him to live to see his wedding day.  
  
So, immediately I called my seneschal before me and asked him to make preparations for me and a dozen of my Riders to journey to the White City of Gondor as quickly as we might. He assured me that all should be in readiness on the morrow. With that task well in hand, I alerted my retainers that I would be departing and left explicit instructions for everything that I wished to have accomplished while I was away from Meduseld, as well as temporarily trusting the rule of Rohan to my Marshal of the East-Mark, Elfhelm, knowing that he was more than equal to the task.

* * *

Lothíriel  
  
It pleased me immensely that Cousin Fara was so happy now. Ever had he been mostly a serious and reserved person, but Éowyn brought out his more vibrant emotions, and though he was still Fara, and Daddy, my brothers, and I would love him no matter what, he was much changed for the better. Ofttimes I might see him with a smile upon his face, which should have been a rare sight indeed in the few years before he at last met his wife. Only Bori had ever seemed to be able to coax any mirth out of him at all, and after he had died, Fara had buried his more pleasant emotions deep within himself, covering them with his unending sense of duty, and the weighty knowledge that now he had to assume Bori's responsibilities as well as his own. It was all Uncle Denethor's fault, I thought, for always was he cold and callous to Fara, never greeting him with a smile, never offering him a word of praise. It was most unfair of him, and I shall never forgive him for what he did to my dear cousin.  
  
Now that we had departed the River Poros for the much safer atmosphere of Minas Tirith, Fara's health had begun to blossom under Éowyn's loving attention. If not for his thin face and his left arm yet mending in its sling, one should not know that he had ever been injured so badly, though he did move rather stiffly sometimes. Èowyn was a true blessing to him, and I watched them (from afar, of course!) and hoped that someday I might achieve the same level of compassion, respect and love for the man whom I married, and I certainly prayed that I should be as lucky as Éowyn had been in acquiring a husband who held her well-being above all else, even his own life.  
  
I awakened early on that particular morning and went downstairs in my dressing gown to break my fast with Daddy, who always rises early. He greeted me with a surprised smile and rose from the head of the table, giving me a hug before we both sat, and I poured myself some tea.  
"Thíri, whatever are you doing up at this hour? Are you ill?" he teased, and I smirked at him as I sipped my tea.  
  
"Of course not, Daddy. I am just so excited to be returned to the city, I thought that I would get an early start and perhaps do some shopping today."  
  
"Ah."  
  
"Are Fara and Èowyn up and about yet?" I asked, knowing that Daddy usually broke his fast with them.  
  
"Nay, today they are being layabouts, something that they have both earned in my opinion," he commented, before he helped himself to a boiled egg. He cracked and peeled the egg while we sat in comfortable silence for a while, enjoying our time together.  
  
"Daddy?" I finally said when he had at last taken a bite. "Do you think I might ever find a husband for myself who treats me as well as Fara treats Èowyn?"  
  
He cleared his throat as if he might have been about to choke, taking a quick sip of tea, before he asked, "Whence did that question arise, my dear?"  
  
I sighed in exasperation at him. "Do you think that I do not contemplate marriage? I ponder it nearly every day, and I am beginning to think that I shall never be lucky enough to find a husband worthy of me."  
  
Setting his teacup down, Daddy said, "I did not realize that being wed was so important to you. You know, there are many eligible young bachelors in Dol Amroth who would be extremely lucky to have you for a wife. Or even in Minas Tirith for that matter."  
  
"Oh, I do not think I should like to live so far away from you, Daddy, though I can think of no one in Dol Amroth who has caught my fancy." I sighed and took up a slice of bread, slathering it with butter before I bit into it.  
  
"You know, there is one other who I have thought for some time might be a good match for you."  
  
"Really?" I asked enthusiastically. "Who?"  
  
"Well, your sister-in-law has informed me that she has invited her brother to come from Edoras to spend a few days with her and Faramir. Èomer is a good man, and it might behoove you to spend some time with him."  
  
I snorted in derision. "Lord Èomer is a loud oaf of a man who cannot converse upon any subjects other than horses and ale."  
  
Daddy laughed at me. "Nay, Daughter, Èomer is a well-learned man who has been naught but a friend to me since I met him. True, his favorite subjects are horses and ale, but he can converse upon any number of subjects in an intelligent manner, my dear."  
  
"I speak to him only because he is Èowyn's brother, and I adore her," I said before taking another mouthful of bread.  
  
"Ah, I am sorry that I mentioned him then, though I think you might have trouble finding someone 'worthy' if the King of Rohan is not good enough for you, Thíri."  
  
I scowled as I thought about Lord Èomer. He was very handsome, tall and muscular with the most beautiful blond hair and soft brown eyes that seemed to see everything. I sighed. "He most likely feels the same way about me, as ever he seems so serious and cold whenever we meet, and eager to depart my company as soon as possible."  
  
"Would you not be as well if you knew that the person you were speaking with thought you to be a loud oaf of a man?"  
  
I stared at Daddy in shock. "Well, who might have told him that?"  
  
"Thíri, despite what you might think, the man is not stupid. It is clear how you feel about him from the cold manner in which you speak to him."  
  
"Am I so transparent?" I asked, unwilling to admit that he was right.  
  
"When it comes to Lord Èomer, I am afraid so."  
  
We ate in silence for a while longer before I said, "Perhaps I shall give him another chance then, but only because Èowyn is so dear to me, and I do not wish to alienate her."  
  
Daddy nodded and smiled. "Of course you do not, my dear." He remembered something then. "Oh, I have made arrangements for our things to be moved just after lunchtime to an upscale inn on the fourth circle called the Cook's Kettle. I have stayed there many times before through the years, and I think you shall like it there."  
  
"But, why, Daddy?"  
  
"Because I deem that too many houseguests are an ill thing for Faramir and Èowyn right now. They have had barely one minute to themselves since we returned with them to Minas Tirith, and with Èomer's arrival, they shall require more space, so I thought that you and I should change our accommodations. I have already discussed it with Fara, and though he objects as all good hosts will do, I insisted that it was for the best. So, if . . . no, when you purchase clothing today, have it sent there, my dear."  
  
"Of course, Daddy." I breathed a small sigh of relief to know that I should not have to sleep under the same roof as the King of Rohan, eating every meal with him, being forced to be polite to him all of the time. I thought that it should grow tiresome quite quickly.  
  
After breakfast I dressed, and then I was going to go into the city, intending to buy every gown in the very latest designs that I could lay my hands upon. But as I walked through the upstairs corridor in the steward's residence, I found myself drawn to Fara and Èowyn's bedchamber door, and so I lightly knocked there, hoping that it was not too early to visit them.  
  
It had only been a moment when Fara answered the door, fully dressed for the day. He smiled in welcome and ushered me inside where he and Èowyn were breaking their fast at their small private dining table. Èowyn was lovely in a flowing white dressing gown, her hair yet unbraided, and I felt guilt for interrupting them. But she smiled broadly at me and bid me to sit with them, offering me some food. I accepted a cup of tea, explaining that I had already eaten even as I wondered why I had come here and bothered them.  
  
They both sat silently and looked at me pleasantly, though expectantly, and I was suddenly too embarrassed to speak as I stared down into my teacup, looking at my own reflection in the dark amber liquid. Faramir immediately seemed to realize that I needed to discuss something privately with his wife and quietly excused himself, kissing Èowyn upon the cheek before he departed the chamber.  
  
"What is it, Lothíriel? Are you well?" asked Èowyn, sensing my discomfort.  
  
"I feel so foolish now that I am here," I replied, and I was abashed to find tears welling within my eyes.  
  
Èowyn rose and then sat in the chair next to mine, placing her hand upon my knee. "Tell me, friend. What is it?"  
  
I smiled ruefully and looked up at her. "I am terribly jealous of you, do you know that?"  
  
She looked shocked. "Of me? Why?"  
  
"Because you are so happy, you and Fara. I wish I could find happiness like that."  
  
"Oh, Lothíriel!" Èowyn gathered me close in her arms and gave me an affectionate squeeze. "You are a lovely woman, and I know that someday you shall find happiness like Faramir and I have." She released me and took my hand. "Now, what has happened to make you so sad?"  
  
I sniffled and pulled back from her a bit. "It is not a new feeling. I long to get married and have babies. I want to have a man who loves me and wants to spend the rest of his days with me. I do not speak it aloud most times, though."  
  
Èowyn nodded. "Has your father found no one suitable for you?"  
  
"There lies the problem. There is one that he feels is suitable, but I do not particularly care for the man."  
  
"Why not? I know your father would never choose badly when it comes to the welfare of his only daughter."  
  
"Well, I do not think that this certain man cares at all for me, and I find him somewhat abrasive. I thought that I should learn your thoughts as I highly value your opinion, and the man in question. . . ."  
  
"Yes?" she urged, her brow furrowed slightly.  
  
". . . is your brother," I finished and hung my head, waiting for her wrath to fall upon me.  
  
Instead she laughed with great spirit, and I stared at her, wondering what she was thinking. When she at last found her voice, she said, "You sound just like Faramir did when first he met Èomer! But those two are like brothers now. Perhaps you have not looked past Èomer's rough exterior?"  
  
"Daddy told me that he feels that I have been rude to Lord Èomer in the past, and I do wish to remedy the situation, but I do not know where to begin. I am mortified that I have repelled the brother of the woman whom I most admire."  
  
"Oh, Lothíriel, I am flattered, but I do know how trying my brother can be, especially for someone who does not know him well. It was always different for me, for if he troubled me badly enough, I would punch him in the nose!" she laughed.  
  
I smiled at that. "I do not think that is an option for me, though it has been tempting in the past, Cousin." I paused briefly and then plunged ahead. "Do you think that he hates me?"  
  
"Certainly not! He is just not one to speak at length about subjects that do not interest him. He knows nothing of fashion or the happenings of court, even though as king, he holds his own court. But he pays no attention to gossip! Perhaps the difficulty between you rises from that. He cares not for the company of people whom he thinks speak too long or too often."  
  
My heart sank. "Is that what he thinks of me?"  
  
"In truth he has said so, but the King of the Mark can be a thickheaded fool at times. Just remember, Lothíriel, he judges people first by their actions; words are always secondary in his assessment of character. If you would like, I would speak to him on your behalf. . . ."  
  
I answered quickly. "Oh, no, Èowyn! That would be much too embarrassing!"  
  
"All right. I shall let you approach him then. He should arrive this afternoon. By the way, I was wondering if you and your father might come to dinner tonight?"  
  
"I would like to, Èowyn. I shall ask Daddy if he is free this evening and then send a message to you."  
  
She nodded, smiling knowingly. "Fear not, Lothíriel, if my brother is meant for you, you shall both know it soon enough." 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for the reviews. I love them all! And thanks again to Rosie26!

* * *

Éowyn  
  
Éomer was early, arriving just a little while after Faramir and I had eaten lunch. My brother and I were both beyond words at the happiness that we felt to see each other again, and he immediately picked me up and hugged me as he always had, swinging me around him and laughing aloud. Never had he been more welcome.  
  
"Where is your husband?" he asked me as he set my feet back upon the floor, and though he yet smiled, I knew from the look in his eye that he was genuinely concerned about Faramir.  
  
"He is relaxing on the balcony with one of his more boring tomes, Éomer," I told him.  
  
"What happened to him?" my brother asked, growing more serious, and I led him to a nearby couch, where we sat so I could tell him the lengthy story of all that had befallen Faramir since last Éomer had beheld my husband. My brother listened intently, never interrupting me once, and when I was finished, he nodded. "It is well that he has chosen to retire from combat, for he has seen enough of it for ten lifetimes. He has more than proven his valor." He smiled again. "Now he can see to you more often!" he teased, and I blushed, slapping him lightly on the shoulder.  
  
"Shall we go visit him now?" I asked him.  
  
"Nay, let him read. I shall see him later, and I would like to spend some time with you, Sister. How are you?"  
  
"I am well, Éomer."  
  
"But you are worried," he said.  
  
"About what?"  
  
"About being a mother. You did not have much training with children as you grew, after all."  
  
My brother could almost always judge my mood correctly. I smiled slightly and then nodded. "I am nervous, yes. But I have many friends to help me, and thank the Valar, I still have a loving husband as well. I do worry, though, that I yet shall be left behind ofttimes with the children when they are yet too young to travel, and Faramir has need to come to Minas Tirith on business."  
  
"Perhaps you shall not care that you are left behind, Éowyn. Perhaps you shall view it differently when the first babe arrives."  
  
"Perhaps," I mused. "I must admit that it is all so new to me that it does not seem real yet."  
  
Éomer nodded. "It shall seem real soon enough, I deem. I cannot wait to hear a little voice calling me Uncle Éomer, though!" he laughed.  
  
"I hope to be able to raise the child to ride as well as his Uncle Éomer."  
  
"Ah, that reminds me. I should like for you to come home to Edoras soon after your son arrives, so you can choose his first mount."  
  
I nodded to him formally and said gravely, "The King of the Mark is most generous." 

He punched me playfully upon my arm. "Stop that!" Then, with a teasing scowl upon his face, he added in a quiet voice, "You act and sound more like Faramir every day."  
  
I smiled at him and stood, offering him my hand which he took with a brief squeeze, as he rose with me. "In honor of your arrival, we are having guests for dinner."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Aye. Prince Imrahil and his daughter Lothíriel will be joining us."  
  
Éomer looked quite uncomfortable at the mention of her name, and I thought for a short moment that perhaps she had been right, and he truly did not care for her. "I had completely forgotten that they were here in Minas Tirith. How fares the Prince of Dol Amroth?"  
  
"Uncle is well as always. I think that my husband and I should not have made it through the past month without his support and that of Lothíriel. Their devotion to Faramir is unwavering."  
  
"And to you as well, I should imagine," he said. "But I thought you said they were staying here at the steward's residence with you. . . ."  
  
"They were, but Uncle decided that Faramir and I deserved more privacy than their presence could allow, so he rented some rooms at an inn on the fourth circle."  
  
Éomer nodded, and then his attention was drawn to the staircase, and I turned to see my husband slowly descending the stairs, a broad smile upon his face. "Brother!" roared the king, standing abruptly, and the prince replied in kind, Éomer meeting him upon the landing.  
  
He grasped Faramir's left arm in a warrior's handshake as my husband's other arm still rested in a sling, before Faramir pulled Éomer into a brotherly embrace, stating with a smile, "I know that I do not look it, but I can withstand one of your hugs, Éomer!" There was much backslapping but few words as they remained thus for well over a minute, and I knew from Faramir's bittersweet expression that he was thinking of his brother Boromir.  
  
When they at last released one another, Éomer said, "I am glad to see that you are well, Faramir."  
  
"Not so much as I! Look not so grave, Éomer! Truly, I am well! I just wait for the bones to wholly mend now, and then I shall be as good as ever I was. Éowyn has seen to that with her marvelous bedside demeanor!"  
  
Éomer laughed when he turned to see me waiting below, blushing so thoroughly under my husband's gaze. It never fails to delight him that Faramir has that power over me, I suppose. I know that it has never failed to delight me in any event.

* * *

Éomer  
  
It was very good to see Éowyn again. I noticed immediately that she looked exhausted and decided at first that it must be because of her condition. But when I heard the whole of her news about Faramir, and then at last saw him in person, I knew that she probably had not been sleeping well out of anxiety for him. Though they both assured me that he was doing much better than he had been, I was shocked by how much weight he had shed since last I had seen him and how pale his face was. It was plain that Èowyn had not exaggerated when she spoke of how close the man had come to death, and it was reassuring to see him alive and even smiling with a happy glow in his eyes, no less, though it was difficult to quell the urge to demand that he sit down immediately, so thin and drawn was his face. He sensed my unease at his condition, though, and did his best to put my fears to rest.  
  
I smiled as Éowyn took him in hand and led him to the couch that she and I had just abandoned, and even as he scowled slightly, he patiently endured her attentions, and I marveled at the depth of the affection that he felt for my sister even as he explained softly to her that he did not require any cosseting. With a look, she quieted his complaining, and he smiled at her, drawing her down onto the cushion next to him.  
  
"It is well that you have at last learned your place, Lord Steward, for the sister of this king is no one to argue with," I laughed.  
  
Faramir's face colored briefly as he realized how closely I had been watching them, but he smiled. "I am yet learning, but I do know that arguing with your fair sister is far from pleasant."  
  
"Far from pleasant?" I laughed louder at his words. "That is a diplomatic way of stating the obvious, I suppose. I would have simplified and said that arguing with Éowyn is less pleasant than having a toothache at a seven-day feast!"  
  
"Hmm," said Faramir, smiling while at the same time looking at his wife from the corner of his eye. "Your words are definitely less diplomatic than mine, Brother."  
  
Éowyn's eyes narrowed at me, and I expected for a moment that she might leap from the couch and punch me as she would have when we were younger, but Faramir deftly handled her with some soft caresses upon her hand that he held. "I am so happy that you invited Éomer here to visit, love. I very much enjoy watching you both interact with one another," he told her honestly. Any remaining annoyance that she might have felt toward either of us disappeared immediately, and as she smiled at him, I shook my head, yet amazed by their relationship.  
  
"Jealous, Brother?" asked Éowyn, and I scoffed at her even as I realized that indeed I was envious that she had found happiness, and I had not, nor might I have the opportunity since the King of the Mark did not marry for love or happiness.  
  
After Éowyn had some refreshments delivered to us, we all spoke together for the remainder of the afternoon, and our conversation eventually turned to the current happenings at the River Poros. Faramir told me that there had been little news since he and Èowyn had returned to the White City. King Elessar had remained behind with a small army to repel any further attacks upon Gondorian soil, but he was having a great deal of trouble finding any Haradrim that were willing to speak with him about the possibility of peace talks between the two countries.  
  
I thought it doubtful that peace could ever be realized between Gondor and Harad, but Faramir was optimistic and told me that he had even begun outlining a rough draft of a treaty, hoping to be prepared when at last the Haradrim agreed to speak with them. And he had been studying their language as well, so he might be even better prepared if the time arrived.  
  
"You are incredible, Brother," I said.  
  
He raised an eyebrow at me. "Why do you say that?"  
  
"After all you have been through at the hands of those beasts, you are still willing to give them another chance."  
  
"But there are so many other people to consider besides myself. People in South Gondor are starving to death, for neither Gondor nor Harad have taken the responsibility of ruling over such an arid and unfruitful land. I feel that if we can win over the inhabitants of South Gondor by providing them with the means to support themselves at a reasonable standard, we can win them over to our side. Harad would have to reconsider their invasion of the land if the people who lived there were against it and willing to fight to maintain freedom from the tyranny of which the Haradrim are capable. After all, Harad no longer has the resources that they once held now that they have not the support of Mordor, and if they pursue their invasion of South Gondor, they may find themselves faced with a situation for which they are little prepared."  
  
"Faramir, your faith in people amazes me. Were I the King of Gondor and there was a border dispute with the Haradrim, I would send forth every soldier that I owned and make certain that the Southrons would be unable to dispute it again."  
  
"Raw force is not always the answer, Éomer," he said.  
  
"I think, though, that with the Haradrim, it is, since they have been attacking their northern neighbors for centuries."  
  
"And your opinion is one that is popular among our people and many of our military advisors, but I think that if Gondor were to take the noble path, by providing aid instead of more death and destruction, we should reap the benefits."  
  
At that moment a servant entered the room and announced the arrival of Prince Imrahil and Lady Lothíriel, and we all stood as they came in, Imrahil and I greeting each other like old friends.  
  
"Éomer-King, you remember my daughter, Lothíriel?"  
  
My gaze shifted to her as I nodded. She was almost exactly as I had remembered her: a petite girl with her long, black hair hanging loosely about her face, and pretty, green eyes. But there was something different about her this time. I was very surprised to find that she was looking up at me with an expression that was not scornful or haughty for once. In truth, I was bewildered, for always I had assumed that she did not care for my company.  
  
"Lady Lothíriel," I said politely, taking her tiny hand in mine, brushing my lips over the backs her fingers before I released her.  
  
"Lord Éomer," she murmured, her green eyes dancing with pleasure. "I am happy to see that you are looking well." I knew she was only being nice, for I had come directly to the steward's residence from the stables and had not taken the opportunity to wash the dust of the road from myself yet, but I politely nodded in acknowledgment of her words. "I was glad when Èowyn told me that you would be arriving today, but we had not expected you so soon!"  
  
_She is glad that I am here? That is odd indeed._ "My men and I had agreeable weather for the whole of the journey, and the road was in good repair as well." She nodded as if she expected me to continue. "You are looking well also, my lady," I said, wondering if that was what she was hoping for.  
  
"Thank you," she murmured, and then I noticed how attractive she looked in the yellow frock that she was wearing.  
  
Prince Imrahil spoke, "I fear we are a bit early, but I had hoped that Lord Éomer might have arrived early, and here he is!"  
  
"Uncle," said Éowyn, "I wonder if you might come with me to the kitchen. I have something there that I would like your opinion about."  
  
"Of course, Éowyn!" said Imrahil, and I looked at my sister suspiciously, knowing that she was up to something. She took the prince by the arm, and they quickly left the room. I glanced over at Faramir, who was seated once again upon the couch, but he seemed ignorant of any ulterior motives that Éowyn might have had.  
  
"Will you not both sit somewhere and take your ease?" he asked, and I sat again where I had been resting before. Though there were many places to sit in the large room, Lothíriel sat right next to me. Though she is tiny, her closeness made me nervous. "Thíri, is that a new gown?" asked Faramir.  
  
"Oh, yes, I bought it only this morning." She stood and turned. "Do you like it?"  
  
"Yes, it is very fetching!" said the steward with enthusiasm, and then I cringed when I realized that she was looking at me, expecting a comment.  
  
"What do you call that color?" I asked, for of a sudden, I knew not what else to say.  
  
"It is yellow," she said, looking at me with an odd expression.  
  
I nodded. "It is pretty," I told her, before looking down at the floor. She sat down silently next to me again.  
  
After a moment, she said, "I bought eight new gowns this morning in a rainbow of hues."  
  
"I look forward to seeing them all, Thíri," said Faramir with a smile. _Damn him._ The man can hold an animated conversation with someone who has no mouth. I looked to her and realized that she was looking expectantly at me again.  
  
"I cannot remember the last time that I had any new clothes made for myself," I said at last. "I find that I do not require more than seven days worth of clothes since wash day still comes around once a week!" I laughed.  
  
"But do you not grow tired of wearing the same clothes over and over, my lord?" she asked me in a tone that was just barely civil.  
  
I shrugged. "I do not think about it, for it is unimportant."  
  
Finally the expression that I was used to seeing upon her face made its appearance. "It is unimportant to you maybe, but clothing and looking fashionable are important to me."  
  
The steward spoke when he noticed that we were, as usual, not getting along. "Thíri, not everyone has your enthusiasm for fashion. The King of Rohan must wear practical clothing as he has much in his kingdom that requires him to work with his hands. I should not think that he would want to be dressed in silk when foaling horses." It was a valid argument, and I thanked him with a nod.

"Nor would he wish to wear silk when drinking ale, I suppose," she muttered as she rose and ran from the room.  
  
"What did I say?" asked Faramir, genuinely confused, but he could not have been more confused than I. With a shrug, I resumed our conversation about the Haradrim, and the steward, though he seemed concerned about his cousin's mood, could not stop himself from further debating me.

* * *

Lothíriel  
  
When Daddy and I entered Fara and Éowyn's great hall, it was obvious that Fara and Lord Éomer had been discussing politics, for Fara always gets a flush upon his face when he is speaking passionately about something in which he believes wholeheartedly. But as we were announced, the conversation ended, and we entered the room, finding them all upon their feet.  
  
Daddy went straight to the king and they clasped hands enthusiastically. Lord Éomer was just as I had remembered him from the last time I saw him, tall and handsome with flowing waves of sun-bleached, blond hair that hung halfway down his back which provided a wildness to his look that was both intimidating and endearing at the same time, though he was quite dusty as usual. I heard Daddy ask if the king remembered me. Lord Éomer looked upon me with his warm, brown eyes, his expression blank at first as he nodded, but his eyes seemed to soften when I smiled at him as never I had before, and then he looked utterly confused.  
  
Gently he took the hand that I offered him, and he kissed it briefly, softly saying my name with his richly-accented voice before he released it. I said, "Lord Èomer, I am happy to see you looking well." For some reason his brow furrowed a little more at me, and I wondered if perhaps I had a spot of something upon my face. Unwilling to be turned from my purpose by his seeming distraction, I continued, saying, "I was glad when Éowyn told me that you would be arriving today, but we had not expected you so soon!"  
  
_Obviously you have said the wrong thing, Lothíriel,_ I thought as the lines across his brow deepened even further. But at least he finally spoke, saying something about the weather, and I nodded, hoping to encourage him. "You are looking well also, my lady," he finally added. It was merely a polite statement, but it was more than I had expected from him in truth. I thanked him though, and his expression cleared as his contemplative gaze lingered upon me until Daddy interrupted our exchange.  
  
Éowyn, bless her, coaxed Daddy away into the kitchen, and Lord Éomer and I were left alone with Fara, though the King of Rohan looked positively discomfitted now, looking over at my cousin with a somewhat calculating expression upon his features. Fara, though, seemed completely unaware of the conversation that I had held with his wife that morning, and asked, "Will you not both sit somewhere and take your ease?"  
  
The king sat stiffly upon the couch that was directly behind him and so I sat next to him, but that seemed to make him uncomfortable as he glanced toward me momentarily and then placed his hands upon his knees as if he did not quite know what to do with them. Luckily, Fara asked me then about the dress that I was wearing, and I then had the opportunity to rise and show it to them.  
  
"Do you like it?" I asked, hoping that Lord Èomer would say something romantic about it, but Fara answered first while the king sat without expression, looking almost everywhere in the room but at me.  
  
_Oaf!_ The thought came into my mind unbidden as I looked down upon this man who obviously cared not a thing about me. I saw him wince when his eyes finally met mine again, and I carefully tried to keep my face impassive as he asked, completely serious, "What do you call that color?" 

"It is yellow." _Oaf!  
_  
But he nodded and told me that it was pretty, and with that comment, he redeemed himself, though he looked like an animal caught in a trap, searching for any means of escape. Slowly I sank back down next to him, hoping not to alarm him further with any sudden action.  
  
As it seemed that Lord Éomer had naught else to add to the conversation, I looked to Fara and told him that I had bought eight gowns in various colors at my favorite dress shop, and he smiled, saying that he could not wait to see them, whereas, when the king deigned to pay attention to us again, he said, "I cannot remember the last time that I had any new clothes made for myself. I find that I do not require more than seven days worth of clothes since wash day still comes once a week!" He laughed as if he had made a hilarious joke, and I felt that he was only making fun of me. Worst of all Fara smiled at the king's comment, though he looked at me apologetically.  
  
"Do you not grow tired of wearing the same clothing again and again, my lord?" I asked.  
  
Lord Éomer shrugged. "I do not think about it, for it is unimportant."  
  
"It is unimportant to you maybe, but clothing and looking fashionable are important to me."  
  
Fara then butted in, spouting some nonsense about horses, which did not surprise me in the least, since he was a man, and I could not help but make a snide comment about ale before I stood, and without a word went to find Daddy and Éowyn in the kitchen.  
  
They were sitting at a small table, sipping wine, and speaking animatedly. I approached them and flung myself into the chair between them. "This is hopeless!" I wailed.  
  
"What has happened, Thíri?" asked Éowyn as Daddy rested his palm upon my back.  
  
"He hates me."  
  
"Thíri, you have barely spoken to the man," said Daddy.  
  
"There is no manner in which Èomer could hate you," Éowyn stated. "Perhaps he does not understand you, but my brother could never hate you."  
  
"I am not so certain."  
  
"Invite him to go riding upon the Pelennor with you tomorrow," she offered. "Take a picnic lunch, and make a day of it. I know that he shall have a good time doing that, for there is naught that he likes better than to go riding, and he loves to eat."  
  
"What if he does not wish to join me?"  
  
Éowyn shrugged. "Then he is a fool, or a loud oaf--was that what you said, Uncle?"  
  
Daddy nodded and laughed as I blushed, embarrassed that he had told Éowyn what I thought of her brother, though Éowyn was laughing as well.  
  
"Thíri, both Éowyn and I only want you to be happy, but I think that the King of Rohan might be a good match for you. Please, do not give up too easily."  
  
I sighed. "All right, Daddy."  
  
"I shall see that your picnic consists of his favorites," said Èowyn, and I felt a little better, as she stood up. "Do not forget to ask him tonight, though," she added, and I grew nervous at the thought of spending an entire day alone with a man who seemed to have naught in common with me. I hoped that it might pass quickly.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks all for the nice reviews! I'm glad you're enjoying this so far! Thanks Rosie26 for all of your invaluable help!

* * *

Éomer  
  
After Faramir and I had exhausted our abilities to debate one another, arriving at a stalemate and in the end agreeing that we would never agree upon the Haradrim situation, I took a few moments in the guest room where I would be staying, to wash the dust from myself before dinner. As I splashed the cool water upon my face, I wondered just when it was that Éowyn had become as conniving and underhanded as the rest of the Gondorians, for the longer I scrubbed the dirt from myself, the more I realized that Éowyn was not being forthright with me about the Lady Lothíriel.  
  
After I had changed into clean attire and soft boots, leaving my armor for my valet to polish, I returned to the great hall and found my sister raptly listening to Imrahil tell a story about something that his children had done when they were younger. When he was finished, I approached her.  
  
"Éowyn, may I speak with you in private a moment, please?" It was not easy for me to be polite to her, but since it was not my own hall, I decided to be civil.  
  
"But Éomer, we are just about to sit down to dinner. . . ."  
  
"It shall only take a moment."  
  
She nodded, a rueful look upon her face. "Very well, Éomer."  
  
Making excuses to the rest of the party, we went into her sitting room, and I closed the door behind us before asking, "When are you planning on telling me what is going on tonight, Sister?"  
  
She did not meet my eyes. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"I am talking about Lothíriel. It is plain that you are trying to foist her upon me." I sighed. "I never thought that I should have to dodge prospective wives here of all places."  
  
"Éomer, you should give her a chance. She is a lovely woman. . . ."  
  
"So, I was correct! Éowyn, she is a silly girl!"  
  
"Nay, though she looks very young, she is only a year younger than I am, Brother, and not a girl by any means."  
  
"Well, she acts like a girl, primping and preening herself like a spoiled popinjay. What man would want a vain woman like that?"  
  
"Éomer!" she chided. "Will you not believe me when I tell you that you should find her to be a very nice person once you get to know her better?"  
  
"I am uncertain that I wish to know her better," I muttered.  
  
My sister crossed her arms across her chest and tapped her foot impatiently at me. "Give her a chance," she hissed.  
  
I sighed and nodded before adding, "Only because Imrahil has been such a good friend and ally to me, though."  
  
Éowyn smiled smugly, and I knew that I was probably in for trouble as we returned to the great hall so Éowyn could announce that dinner was ready to be served.

* * *

Faramir  
  
Dinner that evening was a very strange affair. Thíri and Éomer kept glancing at each other with something akin to fear upon their faces, and Éowyn and Uncle kept sharing glances of amusement. I wondered what was going on, for obviously, though I was the lord of the house, I had not been informed by anyone about the reasons for all of the odd behavior. And the conversation seemed forced between my cousin and the king, who kept looking to me as if searching for a rope to pull him from a raging river that was dragging him slowly beneath the surface.  
  
"Thíri, what else do you have planned to do while you remain in Minas Tirith?" I asked, attempting to help him by drawing some of her attention toward me.  
  
"No particular thing, Fara," she said absently, and then she was silent. So after a moment, I turned to the king.  
  
"And you, Éomer? Aside from visiting with your sister, what else will you do while you are here in the city?"  
  
He sent a pointed glance at Éowyn who ignored it, taking a sip of wine, before saying, "I know not. My social secretary has not informed me as of yet."  
  
I raised an eyebrow. "I was unaware that you had a social secretary. Well, perhaps you and I and Uncle here could do a bit of hunting before you must depart?"  
  
Finally his gaze rested on my face, and he nodded. "I would like that very much. It is long since I have been able to relax on a simple hunt with friends."  
  
"I, too, would like that," added Uncle. "Maybe some stag hunting would be entertaining."  
  
"Indeed," I said. "Perhaps we could go on the morrow?" I asked Éomer. I was startled by the immediate twin feminine no's that rang from either side of the table.  
  
I looked to Thíri, who was looking down at her plate, and then to Éowyn, who was looking blankly at Uncle. "Éowyn, you object?"  
  
She glanced at me, looking somewhat nervous, I thought. "Éomer has only just arrived, husband. I have not had enough time to speak with him thoroughly as of yet. Perhaps in a couple of days you could make plans for a hunt."  
  
Éomer sighed aloud as I nodded, and I glanced to him before saying, "Very well. I would not monopolize your brother's time before you are finished with him, my dear," I said, wondering what the exact meaning of this strange behavior was.  
  
I supposed that some amount of discord might exist between two people who are so obviously different as Éomer and Thíri are, the King of Rohan being a rather tactless and impatient man at times, and my cousin tending toward vanity and flightiness. But the strange undercurrent of the mood of the room pointed toward my wife's behavior. I decided then that I would question her later, if only to broaden the scope of my obvious lack of knowledge about the happenings in my own home, for I was feeling quite uneducated at that moment.

* * *

Lothíriel  
  
Later, when dessert was finished, and it was beginning to grow late, Daddy, Fara and Éomer stood up from the table, intending to retire to Fara's study to look over some maps of the lands to the south. Before I lost my nerve, I quickly asked Lord Èomer if I might speak with him in private.  
  
"Of course," he murmured politely, though he looked quite wary of me. I led him outside into what used to be Aunt Finduilas' garden, but now belonged to Éowyn, and sat down upon a bench near the door where we could overlook the lovely plantings in the soft glow of the moonlight. The king moved to stand before me, and though I bade him to sit with me, he refused and remained standing, flexing his fingers nervously before finally awkwardly clasping them behind his back.  
  
"My lord," I began. "I wonder . . . that is, if you would. . . ."  
  
"Yes, my lady? If I would what?"  
  
I stood, suddenly feeling very anxious in his dominating presence and walked a bit farther into the darkness of the garden, until I stood on the other side of the king, facing away from him, looking out over the wall and down upon the darkened Pelennor. "I hear that you like to ride, Lord Éomer," I began again.  
  
"You heard wrongly, my lady," he said, and my heart sank. But he continued, "I do not like to ride, for to say that would be like saying that a fish likes to swim or a bird likes to fly. Riding is a part of me. It is what I do, and anyone who truly knows me can tell that when I am afoot, I feel incomplete."  
  
Finally I had discovered something that interested both of us. _Thank you, Éowyn._ "I feel not so passionately about riding as you do, Lord Èomer, but I do enjoy it, and I wondered if you might like to join me tomorrow for a ride upon the Pelennor, and perhaps we might take lunch together as well."  
  
I dared not to look upon him, instead awaiting what he would say as he thought about his answer.  
  
"I would enjoy that," he said at last, and I released a breath that I had not realized I had been holding. "And I promise that I shall not ask any stupid questions about what color your gown is," he added, and I whirled upon him, thinking that he was making fun of me again. But he did not appear to be jesting. Instead, he looked most regal, standing there, dallying with me in a moonlit garden, while I felt like a brainless girl when faced with this man.  
  
I caught myself staring and broke my gaze from him, instead looking at the moon. "Forgive me, my lord. I have been most impatient with you in the past." I looked again at him and saw that he had not moved. "I shall try to do better in the future."  
  
He simply nodded and then formally bowed before he went back into the house. And I remained in the garden, wondering what tomorrow would hold.

* * *

Faramir  
  
"Éowyn, I wonder if you might tell me what was going on tonight at dinner between your brother and my cousin. Never have I been more confused by two people in my life."  
  
She softly laughed as she sat wearily upon the edge of the bed. "They are courting," she said simply, and I laughed aloud.  
  
"Are you certain?" I asked her when I was again able to speak. "There was not much evidence in their behavior this evening to suggest that! Perhaps you are mistaken, my love."  
  
She shook her head. "Nay, I am not. You shall see, husband. In the end they shall be inseparable like we are."  
  
I sat next to her and drew her into my embrace. "That should be an interesting outcome," I murmured, kissing her brow. "I look forward to witnessing it for I know not of two other people who deserve happiness more, and if they can find it with one another, so much the better."  
  
She patted my hand where it rested lightly upon her abdomen. "You shall see," she repeated, her thoughts obviously turning toward something else.  
  
"What is it?" I asked her, hoping she would speak with me, for it was evident that something had been bothering her since we had returned to Minas Tirith.  
  
"I am worried," she stated.  
  
"What about?"  
  
She was silent a moment as if wondering what words to use. Finally she spoke. "I fear that I shall not be a good mother to this child, Faramir."  
  
"Éowyn! How can you say such a thing? You have received much practice at nurturing me, how could you doubt that you should be a good mother?" I was teasing, but she was serious.  
  
"Faramir, you are a man grown, and in truth, you do not need for me to take care of you, for you are capable of seeing to yourself even if you do tend to neglect yourself at times. But a babe. . . . He shall be dependent upon me for everything, and if I do the wrong thing, if I make a mistake. . . ."  
  
"Oh, dear wife, you shall not make a mistake, and there is yet plenty of time to learn aught of which you are unsure before he arrives. Fear not! From what I have been told, babies are resilient and quick to forgive."  
  
She laughed softly against me. "Then in truth they are much the same as you, Faramir." But then she sobered again. "Would you be very wroth with me if I told you that in truth I thought that we might yet have some time alone together before the children began to arrive?"  
  
"No, Éowyn, I would not, though I should remind you that most people who have been married as long as we have, already have their first child."  
  
She nodded. "I had thought that perhaps I was unable to provide an heir for you."  
  
"Ah, but that is not a worry any longer, my love. I am so very happy that we shall soon have a son to lavish our attention upon."

"Yes," she agreed rather absently, I thought, and she looked to me as if she might add something, but then she rose and went to comb her long, lovely tresses. I laid back upon the pillows and gloried in her radiance and thought upon my son.

* * *

Éomer  
  
When I knocked upon Lothíriel's door at the inn the next morning, I wondered what I had allowed myself to be forced into, for Éowyn had met me earlier in the stables with a bag of food and a knowing smile upon her lips. But it was too late to change my mind now. I would ride with the prince's daughter for one day, and then we would part ways as we had on the other occasions that we had chanced to meet, and there would be no further relations between us.  
  
But when she opened the door to her room, I found myself faced with something unexpected. Lothíriel had pinned her hair into a style that held it away from her face, and I could at last see the long line of her graceful neck, the beautiful shape of her flawless face, and it suddenly occurred to me that the only daughter of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth was not a mere girl in truth. She was a beautiful woman with hair as black as night and eyes greener than the most lush pasture, her skin smooth like pale rose petals.  
  
"Good morning, my lord," she said, her expression one of amusement as she looked up at me.  
  
"I. . . was concerned that I might have arrived too early, but I see that I have not. Are you ready to go?" I asked her.  
  
She smiled as she nodded, and her face transformed, reminding me of a sunrise. I was surprised by my own reaction to her, as I suddenly could not form words. So without speaking, I offered her my arm, and she closed the door to her room behind her before she rested her hand lightly upon my forearm, and together, we departed the inn. When we reached the street, truly, I had intended to lean down and offer a hand to help her mount her gelding that I had brought from the sixth circle with me. But as the lady appeared so delicate, I unthinkingly took the liberty of circling her waist with my hands and lifting her onto the back of her gelding. The close proximity between us had the most disturbing effect upon her, as she was caught off guard by my actions, and squealed as I raised her into the saddle. I caught sight of the slight scowl upon her face and then found it difficult to meet her eye, for suddenly I knew not whether to laugh or apologize. Instead of either, I mounted quickly, and then I followed her as we wound our way through the cobbled streets, through the Great Gate and onto the Pelennor.  
  
As soon as we entered the fields, I learned that Lothíriel liked to gallop her gelding, and though I had no trouble keeping up with her upon my stallion, Firefoot, I found that she was a skilled rider, and she seemed to forget her obvious dislike of me, as we finally relaxed in each other's company.  
  
When lunchtime at last arrived, we found a shady spot under a huge oak near the road, and I spread a blanket that I had brought beneath it, before the lady sat silently upon it and awaited me to serve forth whatever Èowyn had packed for us. "I hope that Èowyn herself did not make any of this food, or we may find ourselves yet hungry this afternoon," I told her, and she giggled, plainly having heard about my sister's poor culinary skills. But the food was untainted, and my company revealed herself to be more interesting than I had expected as we discussed horses for a while, and then the conversation turned toward Faramir and Èowyn, and then for some time I knew not of what she spoke because the lilting quality of her voice distracted me from her words.  
  
As I lounged upon the edge of the blanket, she noticed that I was not paying attention when I failed to answer a question that she had asked of me. I thought that she might grow wroth with me once more, but instead, she calmly suggested that we discuss something that I was more interested in. So I agreed and asked her to tell me about herself. I was surprised that she seemed confused by my request, and so I repeated myself.  
  
"You wish to hear about me, my lord?"  
  
"I said so, did I not? What is your favorite color?" I asked to give her something with which to begin. She seemed almost confused by my question, but she humored me.  
  
"Dol Amroth blue, of course," she giggled, but then, in a conspiratorial tone, she added, "But since my father is not here. . . . Do you know of those thistles that bloom the pretty purple flowers atop them?"  
  
"Aye, they make for poor pasture for our mounts. I spend much time yanking them from the ground and burning them at home." Her face fell, and I realized that speaking my mind had once again caused a breach between us.  
  
"The color of those flowers is my favorite," she said quietly, looking somewhat disappointed, plucking a stem of grass from near the blanket and picking at it with her delicate fingers. "And your favorite color, Lord Éomer?"  
  
"Color is not something that I pay much attention to, my lady," I admitted, feeling our tenuous affinity slipping further away.  
  
"Oh."  
  
For the sake of the conversation, I continued. "But if I had to give an answer to your question, I would say that I prefer black."  
  
"Black?" She seemed horrified by my answer.  
  
"Not in the way that you are thinking, Lothíriel. Not black like the bottomless black of the Dark Lord of Mordor," I assured her. "I am speaking of the blackness of a week-old foal, the sunlight shining on his velvety coat revealing highlights and shimmers of different colors depending on from which angle you look at him."  
  
The expression on her face, so still and beautiful, revealed that I had actually said the correct thing, and then she smiled at me, and I was lost to her again. "I have never thought of the color black in quite that way," she murmured.  
  
"Black," I nodded, "like your hair, my lady. You have arranged it in a most fetching manner today."  
  
She blushed a little and reached up self-consciously to her bound tresses. "I thought that you had not noticed that I had pinned it differently."  
  
"Lady Lothíriel, it was impossible for me not to notice. It seems that since I first saw you this morning, I have been able to notice little else."  
  
She blushed again, more pronouncedly this time. "You flatter me, Lord Éomer."  
  
I shrugged. "You may think that, but it is no flattery, merely truth. You are very beautiful, and I had blindly not noticed it before."  
  
"I was not very polite to you before. Perhaps that is why you did not find me attractive."  
  
I shrugged again. "Perhaps," I agreed, then I asked, "Why were you not polite before?"  
  
She started to speak and then seemed to change her mind. "I cannot say."  
  
"Cannot or will not?"  
  
Her green eyes boldly bored into my brown ones. "I thought you were a dolt," she finally admitted.  
  
I found her honesty refreshing after what seemed somewhat like forced politeness, and I could not help but laugh. "A dolt?"  
  
She nodded solemnly and looked away from me, across the fields, and I thought I saw a glittering in her eyes that had not been there only a moment before. As I sobered, she said, "You ride very well, my lord."  
  
"As do you, my lady. I had not thought that anyone who was not born in the Mark could ride as well as you do."  
  
She turned to look at me once more. "I have had much practice. Other than attending court functions and shopping, there is not much else for me to do in Dol Amroth than ride or swim in the sea."  
  
"Tell me about the sea. I have never seen it."  
  
She smiled almost sadly. "It is huge and empty. The white-foamed waves crash upon the beach incessantly and the sea birds screech at one another as they fight over the small crabs that are washed ashore. The sand gets in my slippers, and it is nearly impossible to get rid of it. Sometimes it is fun to sail upon it, but I have not done that for ages, not since Elph joined the navy. . . ." Her voice trailed off into silence, and I was content to wait for her to stop her musing and rejoin me. It was quite a few minutes before she did. She turned her attention back to me and asked, "Is it true that the Rohirrim keep herds of horses so large that you cannot see across them to the other side?"  
  
It was an odd question, but I answered it anyway. "We do allow many horses to roam freely upon the Riddermark, but I cannot say that the herd is as large as what you are asking. Though we have never counted them, I would guess that we have perhaps ten thousand horses. . . ."  
  
"Ten thousand?" She seemed amazed by this prospect. "Surely you boast!"  
  
In truth I was the sort of man to boast on occasion, but I was not boasting this time. "Ten thousand," I repeated.  
  
She smiled. "I do not believe you!"  
  
"And every one of them is better bred than yon Gondorian nag you have been riding today!" I teased.  
  
Her smile faded quickly, and her eyes grew hard, and I realized suddenly that I had spoken too much. "That nag, as you call Roäc, was a gift from my father for my twentieth birthday, and he is among the finest that Dol Amroth has to offer!" She stood abruptly, and so I rose as well. "Not every horse can meet your demanding standards, Horse-Lord!" she growled, her hands balled into fists.  
  
I truly had not realized that the horse belonged to her. I thought that he was borrowed or lent to her, and I knew I had made a stupid mistake. "I spoke in jest!" I exclaimed as she stomped away from me, but she chose not to listen as she leapt upon her mount and cantered away without another glance behind her. Sighing, I packed away the remaining food, folded the blanket and remounted Firefoot, sorry that our day had ended so quickly. 


	4. Chapter 4

Éowyn  
  
It was very nice of Arwen to invite us all to the Citadel for dinner that evening, though I noted with some apprehension that she had seated Lothíriel and Èomer across from each other at the table, and after hearing Lothíriel's account of what had happened between her and Éomer that afternoon, I knew that even attempting to hold a conversation with my idiot brother was more than she wished for that evening. But the queen, as usual, was a lovely hostess, her many years of experience allowing her to be most attentive to her guests' needs, and she ably smoothed over any angry words that were shared at that end of the table with the suggestion that we all retire to the garden after we dined as it was such a beautifully clear night.  
  
Arwen's Elven heritage was never more in evidence than that evening when she graciously accepted our enthusiastic request for a story from when the world was young, centuries before any of her guests had even been considered--or our mothers, or our grandmothers. By starlight, in her melodious voice, she quietly began telling us an enchanting, bittersweet tale from the First Age about her grandfather, Eärendil, and his adventures upon his ship, Vingilot.  
  
Though fascinated by her story, I yet looked from time to time at the rapt wonder upon my husband's face as he absorbed her words. I knew that he was terribly aware at this moment of the great age of the being who stood before him, telling him a story that I knew he had read a thousand times from one book or another. Even my brother seemed utterly enthralled by the Queen of Gondor's tale.  
  
It was with no little annoyance on my part that I suddenly felt rather ill, lightheaded and overheated, and I sought to make a graceful exit without interrupting everyone else. Slowly I stood and somewhat haltingly stepped toward the door that led inside, hoping not to draw any attention to myself. Unfortunately, I failed miserably when I lost my balance and fell into one of the flower beds near the wall, managing to crush many of the queen's lovely blooms at the same time. There was a small cry of alarm from Arwen, who was the only one who actually witnessed my collapse, but instantly Faramir and Éomer were kneeling on either side of me, both with expressions of concern upon their faces.  
  
"Éomer, bring her inside," commanded the queen in a soft tone, and despite my protests, my brother lifted me into his arms and bore me into her home, gently depositing me upon the comfortable upholstered couch nearest the door.  
  
"Please, I just lost my balance," I groaned as my husband stepped forward and took my hand after he felt my face as if searching for fever.  
  
"You are pale and trembling, my love. It does not hurt you to rest here for a bit," he said, stroking his thumb across the back of my hand. "Is it the babe?" he asked, and I found myself resentful of his question. But before I could say a word to him, Arwen was there with a potion that she wished for me to drink, so I did, hoping that I might feel better soon and escape from these eyes all filled with pity as they looked down upon me.  
  
"You should take her home to her own bed," said Arwen. "I think she is fine, just a bit tired."  
  
"I am right here. Do not speak as if I cannot make my own decisions!"  
  
"Éowyn!" chided Faramir gently.  
  
The queen seemed a little surprised by my words, but said, "Of course, Éowyn. Forgive me. You should go home now and get some rest."  
  
"I shall carry her," said Éomer, and I shot daggers at him from my eyes. He seemed to be the only one immune to my temper, however, and he easily raised me from the couch. Everyone made apologies to the queen for having to leave so early, and then my brother slowly brought me home with my husband by his side, looking on in concern. Lothíriel and Imrahil followed wordlessly behind us. I felt momentarily guilty as I looked at their expressions of anxiety, most especially that of Faramir, but I was yet angry and too stubborn to apologize for my outburst.  
  
Éomer carried me to my bed and departed after nodding to me and then to Faramir, leaving me to the attention of my husband, who was looking rather shaky himself. "Éowyn, are you well?"  
  
"Yes, I just lost my balance, Faramir!" I cried at him, exasperated.  
  
He cast his eyes down to where his hand clutched mine. "You frightened me, love," he murmured as he sat down next to me, and with those words, he completely dissolved my anger, and my guilt came to the fore.  
  
I softened my tone. "Faramir, worry not, for I am well now, though I am rather sleepy." I squeezed his hand. "Go, find Éomer and put his mind at ease. I shall sleep now." He nodded, looking miserable, and I could not resist pulling his face to mine and kissing him soundly upon the lips before he stood, promising to return soon as he departed.  
  
I had little time to contemplate my feelings before I fell to sleep, but I decided that being pregnant was terrifying. Holding the heir to the Steward of Gondor within my body was a responsibility that I was uncertain I was ready to undertake, and as I drifted away, I foolishly wondered if Faramir would love me as much after he had a son to lavish his attention upon.

* * *

Imrahil  
  
As I sat down in Faramir's study to await him, Éomer joined me, seeming a little nervous, something for which the King of Rohan was not known. I guessed that it must be because of Éowyn's collapse earlier as I gestured toward the chair next to mine, and he nodded his thanks as he sat. He brooded silently for a time before saying, "Lord Imrahil, I wonder if we might discuss something while we await your nephew."  
  
I wondered at his formality and returned it in kind. "Of course, Lord Éomer. What is it?"  
  
"It is your daughter, Lothíriel," he said, and I could not help but chuckle at his expression of utter confusion. She oft had that effect upon men, but never would I have thought that she could affect this particular Rohirrim thus. He eyed me for a moment as if weighing how much he should say to me before he continued. "It has been brought to my attention that your daughter might be interested in me as a prospective husband."  
  
I nodded. "Yes, I have been informed of that as well."  
  
"As you are her father, I know not how much is prudent to say, so I will speak plainly, and if I anger you with my words, I will suffer whatever penalty you deem appropriate." He had my interest. "Sir," he began, "your daughter is a spoiled, little brat. Though she is a beautiful woman, and I have managed to enjoy her company at least partially, I cannot say that she and I would make a good match. I hoped that perhaps you might set her mind on someone else."  
  
I raised my eyebrow. "You do not care for my daughter?"  
  
He shrugged a little, appearing to be more unsettled now than when he began. "I cannot say that I do not care for her. It is only that I do not understand her, and it seems that ever I am doomed to speak the wrong words to her and so throw her into a rage. Perhaps she would be better suited for someone more well versed in courtly ways and the appropriate manner in which to treat such a lady."  
  
"My lord, if it makes you feel any better, I am well aware that my daughter is spoiled. What girl could not become spoiled being the only female in a household filled with men? After her mother died, her brothers and I could not lavish enough attention upon her, and I fear that she began to greatly enjoy and expect it from everyone else in her life as well.  
  
"As for her tantrums, if you learn to handle her correctly, she shall not rage against you. She does not grow wroth with me any longer, maybe because I do not argue with her, and so I am not a good challenge for her anger. I think that you would be a fine husband for Thíri, Lord Éomer, and I have said as much to her. Now I have said it to you as well. And I know that she would be valuable to you as a wife, more so than just a partner in a marriage to forge a closer bond between our two countries. Thíri is a sharp-witted person, able to think easily on her feet. I have allowed her to attend me in my meetings since she was ten, and she has learned much of statecraft in that time. I believe that she would be a formidable queen by your side.  
  
"So, please, do not give up on her so easily. Rare is it that something or someone easily obtained is worth having. And Lothíriel takes after her mother, a lady who was to me the dearest woman who ever lived."  
  
He remained silent as he considered my words. Finally he said, "You have given me much to think about, Imrahil. Thank you for hearing me out." He rose, and I nodded.  
  
"Thank you for coming to me with your concerns, Éomer."  
  
Absently he wandered from the room, leaving me to muse on how things between the Princess of Dol Amroth and the King of Rohan would turn out in the end.

* * *

Éomer  
  
After searching through the steward's residence for a bit, I found Lothíriel alone in Éowyn's sitting room, stitching some garment by the light of the fire. Though she seemed reluctant to speak with me as she barely looked up from her work, she yet invited me to sit, and so I did, positioning myself in a chair a short distance away from her.  
  
"How is Éowyn?" she asked me.  
  
"I do not know, in truth, but I think she shall be fine. Her wrath is intact; that is a good sign." She nodded, and I continued."My lady, I wish to ride with you again tomorrow."  
  
She glanced up at me, and then back down to her stitchery. "Why do you think that I would want to ride with you again?"  
  
"Because there is naught else to do in this city but shop or stitch, and riding is much more interesting than either of those. As I am riding tomorrow, I thought that you might as well join me."  
  
"Oh, how noble of you!" she exclaimed sarcastically, glaring at me.  
  
Knowing that I had her attention now, I smiled, and she looked taken aback. "I thought that you might see it as I do." I rose. "I shall meet you at your door on the morrow two hours past dawn. Good night." Before she had a chance either to close her mouth or to speak again, I stalked from the room, closing the door firmly behind me. This could well turn out to be a most interesting and entertaining game, I thought.

* * *

Faramir  
  
"Uncle, have you seen Éomer?" I asked as I entered my study to find my uncle engrossed in one of my favorite history tomes.  
  
He closed the book and laid it aside. "He was here a little bit ago, asking after Lothíriel, but he left after that. How is your wife?"  
  
"Weary, but I think that she is well enough. Her foul temper certainly is in good form this evening anyway." Imrahil appeared as if he wished to speak to me. "I cannot stay very long with you, Uncle. I told her that I would return to her soon."  
  
"Of course, my boy. I only wondered what your view on my daughter is."  
  
I was surprised by his words. There was much that I could say, for Thíri is a very complex person who has cultivated a persona for herself that is in keeping with what people expect of the only daughter of a prince. But though she might appear empty-headed and shallow at times, she is very intelligent and witty. "Thíri? She is a wonderful woman! I adore her. Why do you ask?"  
  
His expression was pained, and I sat beside him, concerned. "I fear that I have spoiled her so badly that no man will have her to wife. I am a selfish old man."  
  
"Uncle! You are not! What has happened to make you say such a thing?"  
  
"Fara, when your Aunt Ancalimë died, Lothíriel was all that I had left to me of my wife's beauty and vitality. We were both heartbroken, and I thought to ease our pain by lavishing all of my attention upon my daughter. I allowed her any trinket, any bauble that she wished for herself. There was naught that was too good for her, and I did not deny her anything for which she asked.  
  
"I think that I hoped to keep her with me a while longer by providing these things for her, for what husband would wish to be burdened with a woman who is used to getting her way all of the time, a woman who wants for naught? It rarely occurred to me that these things would not be enough, that she might wish to marry for love and companionship that she cannot receive from her father.  
  
"That time has come at last, and the one man who seems to interest her, who I think would be a good match as well, has discovered that Thíri is spoiled, and I fear that he shall not pursue her further, and it shall be my fault if this happens!"  
  
"Are you speaking about Éomer?" Uncle nodded. "Éomer is the most stubborn man that I have ever known. He is much more stubborn even than Bo was. If he has decided that Thíri is the woman for him, and it is meant to be, he will have her."  
  
"Think you so?"  
  
"With all of my heart, Uncle." I smiled at him, and his expression softened.  
  
"Stubbornness runs in our family, too," he said quietly, nodding.  
  
"I must go, Uncle." He admitted that it was growing late, and we stood. "Do not worry for Thíri. She is accustomed to getting her way, and if she wants to marry Éomer, she will have him. I have no doubt of it." I squeezed his shoulder, and I saw that he felt some relief at my words before I bid him good night and returned to Éowyn's side.  
  
She lay peacefully sleeping in our bed, her lovely golden hair spread about her, eyes closed, lips slightly parted, and I thought that never had I seen her looking more beautiful. But I was loath to join her, for I did not wish to wake her with my fumbling about in the dark, so instead I sat in a chair and contemplated her lovely features.  
  
It seemed that I was a lucky man in the end. Despite all of the hardships and grief that I had suffered over the course of my life, I had achieved happiness for myself. Perhaps it was because of my difficulties, in fact. Now I was married to the most beautiful woman upon Arda, and I had time to study her face as she slept, time to think on the new life that she held within herself. It was a miracle, all of it, and so much more than I deserved. I silently thanked the Valar for the wondrous changes in my life, and sank further into the chair, prepared to spend the night there if necessary.  
  
Something, though, alerted Éowyn to my presence, and she awakened, looking blearily at me with a confused expression. "Is it very late?" she asked, and I answered in the negative. "Faramir, come to bed," she bade, a slow smile spreading across her features.  
  
I stood immediately. "Yes, my lady," I said, as I began to remove my clothing, again silently thanking the Valar for my new life.

* * *

Éomer  
  
On my way down to The Cook's Kettle with Firefoot and Roäc, I wondered if Lothíriel would see fit to answer the door to me after the disaster that had been yesterday's outing. And so, I knocked upon her door, preparing myself to be driven away by her shouting voice.  
  
But I need not have been concerned, as she willingly opened the door to me and stepped into the corridor. The significance of the color that she wore was not lost upon me, for the gown was fashioned of a delicate black fabric, and I wondered if she truly wanted to wear such an extravagant frock in which to ride. I, myself, had worn only a simple shirt and trousers today as I had not expected it to be a formal occasion. But I was relieved that she did not seem wroth with me any longer, far from it indeed.  
  
"My lady, you are beautiful." I brought her hand to my lips and kissed it, never taking my eyes from hers. She smiled as she closed the door to her room, and I escorted her downstairs to our waiting mounts. This time, she made no move to mount Roäc, and I asked her permission and was given it before I grasped her around the waist and easily lifted her onto the gelding's back.  
  
"Thank you," she murmured as I turned and mounted Firefoot, and then she said, "If you would permit it, my lord, there is somewhere that I would like to stop before we depart the city."  
  
"Of course, my lady." I allowed her to lead the way, and soon we were before a small bakery not far from the inn.  
  
"I was unable to break my fast this morning, Lord Éomer, so I thought we might be able to find something here that would suit us both." I dismounted and then lifted her down to the ground before we entered the little shop, the delicious scents inside causing my mouth to water though I had eaten already. Lothíriel chose a dozen of various tiny sugared cakes and I chose half a dozen honey cakes and half a dozen quince tartlets as I was uncertain of what the lady preferred to eat.  
  
Now armed with pastries and a bottle of milk, we remounted and rode slowly, eventually passing through the gate and onto the Pelennor Fields. Lothíriel veered southward from the road and eased Roäc into a canter, and I followed, noticing that her gown shimmered where the sun reflected off it.  
  
It was not long before we reached a breach in the Rammas Echor, and just beyond that the bank of the River Anduin only a little way upstream from the docks of Harlond. She bade me to settle my blanket upon the grassy bank where we could see the sun climb through the mist hanging over the sparkling water of the wide river. She settled herself quickly, her back facing the water so she could watch me. Before I had time to make myself entirely comfortable opposite her, she had pushed one of her cakes into my mouth. It was delicate, its sweetness instantly dissolving in my mouth, and it was the most delicious thing I have ever eaten, though it may have seemed so because it had come from her fingers. Still kneeling close to me, she boldly reached her hand toward my mouth, gently gliding her fingers over my lips, wiping the sugar from them. It was a bold move on her part, but she seemed unaware of the intimacy of the gesture, and I decided to show her how bold I could be in return.  
  
I gently grasped her wrist and guided her index finger into my mouth, sucking gently until the remaining sugar had dissolved while I watched the emotions play across her face. Finally, she disintegrated into a fit of giggles. "That tickles!" she exclaimed.  
  
Reluctantly, I withdrew her finger from my mouth, saying, "You taste most delightful, my lady." Only then did it seem to occur to her that what we were doing might seem improper if viewed by others. As she looked about nervously, I released her hand, saying, "Fear not, Lady Lothíriel, I shall do naught to compromise your honor. You have my solemn vow as a Rider of Rohan."  
  
"I do not fear you, Lord Éomer, though I do wonder what my father would say if he saw us now."  
  
I looked about us. "Is he hiding somewhere around here?"  
  
She laughed. "I do not think so, though our ship rests at anchor at yonder dock, and with it, fifty Dol Amroth men who are very loyal to him."  
  
"Ah, spies!" I smiled.  
  
She laughed again, and I offered her half of one of my tartlets. She took it, saying, "Quince tartlets are my favorite."  
  
"Then why did you purchase those little cakes for yourself?"  
  
"I bought these for you, my lord." I smiled again as she nibbled upon her tartlet.  
  
"And I bought these for you, my lady," I told her, handing her the other half. She smiled as she accepted it, and we ate our breakfast in companionable silence, though it was broken occasionally by Lothíriel's quiet giggles as she fed me from her own hand, and I broke everything that I gave to her into small pieces first. I enjoyed watching her eat, and she seemed to enjoy watching me as well.  
  
Unfortunately for us both, I had placed the blanket much too close to the edge of the river. When we had finished breaking our fast, she rose too quickly and somehow lost her footing, falling backwards into the Anduin. The current was swift here, and in seconds she was being pulled out into the middle. Without thought, I jumped in behind her, hoping to catch up to her before she was completely swept away.  
  
Her lack of cries should have alerted me to her condition, but I had not paused to consider that she had grown up by the sea and was a more than competent swimmer despite being hindered by her skirts. I, too, was a fine swimmer, I thought, but I knew nothing of the currents within the River Anduin, and soon I found myself buffeted against a partially submerged tree rather close to the bank, where I quickly became entangled in its branches. The more I struggled, the less I could move as my hair and clothing were held fast. Cursing loudly in my native language, I watched in amazement as Lady Lothíriel slowly swam back toward the edge of the river as she approached Harlond, and there she was pulled out of the water by several Dol Amroth men who had obviously been watching her progress.  
  
She appeared unharmed as she thanked the men and then departed their company to return to me. I was uncertain if I should draw her attention toward me as I fought to release my cursed hair from the dead wood, or if I should just stay here and rot. Though she was drenched, her carefully styled hair ruined, her sodden dress weighing her down, she was obviously searching the bank for me, wondering where I had gone. I spoke her name as she started to walk past me. It took her only a moment to locate me, but instead of showing concern for me, she began to giggle uncontrollably at my predicament.  
  
"Lord Éomer, what has happened to you?"  
  
"I jumped in after you, my lady, not realizing that you are obviously part fish."  
  
"My lord, I have been swimming since before I could walk! Forgive me for laughing, but you look so ridiculous. . . ."  
  
"My lady, I must inform you that you look almost as ridiculous as I."  
  
"Do you require help?"  
  
My pride spoke. "No, I will disentangle myself in a moment." So, she stood smiling, shading her eyes from the sun, and stared at me as I futilely pulled at my own hair with my one free hand, unable even to reach my own dagger to cut myself free.  
  
After a few moments, she cleared her throat, and asked me again if I required aid. This time I cast my pride aside and spoke quietly to her, "Yes, my lady."  
  
"I am sorry, but I cannot hear you."  
  
She knew what I had said, I know it, but she forced me to repeat myself in a louder voice, my wrath burning brighter every second.  
  
"Hold tight, Lord Éomer. I shall return with aid for you."  
  
"Can you not just wade out here and pass me my dagger, Lothíriel?" I asked her, praying that she would not do what I thought she was going to do.  
  
"Nay, my lord! I would just end up entangled like you!" She turned and started back toward Harlond with a purposeful stride.  
  
Suddenly I cared not what she thought of me as I called after her, hoping to change her mind before she was out of range of my voice. And I know that I saw her shoulders shaking with mirth as she walked! When she at last reached the docks again, she spoke briefly with the three men who had aided her from the water before all four of them moved in my direction. I sighed in barely-suppressed rage, gritting my teeth, and closing my eyes, hoping that at the very least, this degradation would be over quickly.  
  
"'Hoy, Lord Éomer!" shouted the largest of them. I groaned inwardly. _Why did she tell them who I was?_ "We shall have you free in just a moment," he said, placing his knife between his teeth and jumping down into the shallows. Mercifully, it took little time for him to reach me and cut me free, but I was most ungracious as I wordlessly waded back to the shore with him behind me. The two men yet on shore each offered me a hand which I reluctantly accepted, and then I was standing on the shore, dripping while I glared at my breakfast companion.  
  
She enthusiastically thanked the men for me, and as they left, I began to stride angrily to where the horses awaited us, heedless of the fact that my boots were completely filled with water. "Lord Éomer!" she called after me, obviously running to catch up to me. "Are you wroth with me?"  
  
"Why should I be wroth, Lady Lothíriel? I have been humiliated only thrice this day, twice in front of you and once in front of them!" I shouted, gesturing over my shoulder at the men who were yet walking back to the docks.  
  
"It is not as if I wished to fall into the river!" she shouted back at me, reminding me much of Éowyn just then. "And it is not as if I needed you to leap in after me, playing the hero! You are insufferable!"  
  
"As are you! I know not what I ever saw in you, for you are spoiled and vain!"  
  
Her stride did not slow as she questioned me in a shrill voice. "Spoiled and vain?! You, sir, are the most prideful, arrogant, mean. . . ."  
  
"Mean? Whenever was I mean to you?"  
  
"You made jest of Roäc yesterday! That was mean!"  
  
"No, that was truth!" I shouted.  
  
"Since you seem so fond of the truth, Lord Éomer, hear this!" she cried as we reached our mounts. "I detest quince tartlets!" Without another word, she managed to drag herself and her dripping-wet dress onto Roäc's back and begin to canter away as I snorted in derision, yanking the blanket from the ground, folding it hastily and then mounted Firefoot. Though Lothíriel was not riding at a particularly fast pace, I refused to join her, but I would not pass her, for though I was angry, I would not allow her to leave me behind today.  
  
Soon, it seemed that she was playing a game with me, for Roäc's gait grew slower and slower until eventually he was barely moving at all, and Firefoot danced under me, confused by what I was doing as I strove to yet remain behind her.  
  
"You are an infuriating woman!" I finally spat at her, pulling Firefoot even with her gelding.  
  
She looked at me with a haughty expression upon her face. "Think you so?" she inquired, and I saw her lips curl upwards in the beginnings of smile. Our argument had grown so ludicrous that neither of us could keep a straight face, but I had to get one last jibe in. "Perhaps you can show me again what this tiny Gondorian horse is capable of," I growled, bringing the flat of my hand down upon Roäc's hindquarters, causing the gelding to leap forward in surprise, taking Lothíriel with him as she allowed him to slip into a gallop. She glanced back at me once, her face beaming. Grinning myself, I joined her with a spirited shout as we raced back to Minas Tirith to dry ourselves. 


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thanks for all of the nice reviews!! This latest break in the quick updating has been brought to you by Hurricane Charley, which managed to damage houses of three separate relatives of mine, all in completely different parts of Florida!

Thank you, Rosie!!!!!

* * *

Arwen

Though it was rather early, I walked to the steward's residence to check on Éowyn's condition and was led to her sitting room by a maid. The lady of the house, dressed in a flowing white gown, greeted me with a smile, urging me to sit with her. "How are you feeling today?" I asked her as she graciously poured me a cup of tea.

"Oh, Arwen, forgive me for last night! I was so clumsy!"

"Think naught of it, Éowyn."

"I am much improved today. I thank you for your potion, though I did not sleep much anyway."

"Oh?" She did not appear overly tired this morning, and I waited patiently for her to continue.

A slow blush crept over her cheeks and she smiled. "Since Faramir has recovered from the worst of his injuries, his ardor has greatly increased, and it was he who kept me awake in truth."

I smiled at her. "Ah, the best sort of wakefulness," I murmured, looking sidelong at her.

"Yes," agreed Éowyn, nearly giggling. "Though I fear that Lord Faramir may not rise from bed for several hours, as it seems that he depleted all of his energy during the night."

I laughed. "Ah, how I envy you, Éowyn! I miss Estel so much, and when he returns from South Ithilien, it may be weeks before anyone sees him." We giggled together for a moment before I asked after her brother.

"He is out, riding with his future wife."

This was unexpected good news, and I was eager to learn the mysterious lady's identity. "Really? Who is she?"

"Lothíriel," Éowyn said simply as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"What?" I was truly shocked. "After watching them snarl at one another last night, I thought that they were the worst of enemies."

"Only because my brother does not think before he speaks, but he shall learn quickly if he means to have her. But I have faith in him, though I hope that you shall not tell him that."

I crossed my heart with my forefinger. "Never shall it pass my lips," I whispered, and we giggled again. There was a sound at the door, and I turned my head as it swung open, and Lord Faramir padded in, bare-chested, disheveled from sleep, and obviously not completely awake. It was all that I could do to stifle a fresh peal of laughter to watch the Steward of Gondor immediately transform from a relaxed, sleepy man in search of his wife, to a nervous, fumbling man unexpectedly faced with the Queen of Gondor.

His eyes widened in surprise as he stammered, "My lady, I did not realize that you were here! Forgive me!"

I rose and stepped toward him as he started to back out of the room, looking as if he had fallen into a pit filled with poisonous vipers. "Whatever for? Come in! Take your ease!"

"Nay, it is improper, my lady," he murmured, eyes downcast. I think that had I actually touched his arm then, he might have leapt through the wall.

"This is your home!" I gestured toward the settee where Éowyn was sitting, taking this all in gleefully. "Take your ease! Faramir, your queen commands it!"

"Well," he began, and his mouth twitched in sheepish amusement as he seemed to realize how silly he was being, "if you put it that way, I suppose that I shall have to take my ease." I glanced to Éowyn, who right now had only eyes for him, though they were filled with unadulterated amusement, and I decided that I should go, knowing that she was feeling much better today indeed.

I could not help myself. "You may wish to take a nap this afternoon, Éowyn, to make up for the sleep that you did not receive last night," I told her, as I tarried at the door. Both of them blushed, though I thought Faramir might die of mortification as he looked ready to jump out of the window when I winked at him, and Éowyn and I shared one last giggle together before I stepped into the corridor.

His voice was more shrill than usual when, from the hallway, I heard him ask, "Éowyn, what exactly did you tell her?"

Her tone was soothing. "Naught, Faramir. Take your ease. . . ."

* * *

Faramir 

The queen's unexpected early visit had startled me, yes, but not nearly as much as the nightmare that had awakened me from my sleep. It was an unfamiliar dream, but it left me with the familiar feeling of dread when I thought back upon it. In it, Éowyn and I had been picnicking just outside of our home in Emyn Arnen when suddenly a cold, black pall filled the air, the darkness swallowing us both, and though I searched for what seemed hours, I could not find my lady wife anywhere. I awakened in a cold sweat and had sought out Éowyn in her sitting room, though when I found her not alone, I decided not to mention the nightmare as it would serve no purpose anyway other than to alarm her.

So, I put it aside for later, enjoying the remainder of the quiet morning with Éowyn while she and I broke our fast together in her sitting room. Her mood was much improved since yestereve, and as I watched her nibble upon her honey cakes, I secretly wished that we could return to bed and spend the day there. But I had already decided earlier in the week that I would seek out Mablung and Damrod this day, mostly to assure myself that Dam's arm was yet progressing toward a healthy state and that Mablung was keeping him out of trouble while he healed.

After I dressed for the day, I returned to my wife's side to let her know that I was leaving the house. Just as I was preparing to take my leave, Éomer burst into the room without a word, soaking wet, and with the oddest expression upon his face. Had I not known better, I would have thought that he had been struck in the head hard enough that his brain had been addled, as he looked positively ludicrous standing there dripping upon the carpet.

"Brother?" questioned Éowyn, as I realized then exactly what had happened to him. I approached him, greatly amused by his dazed expression.

"She is a fine lady, is she not? Welcome to our ranks, Éomer," I murmured, and he smiled broadly at me. Never had I seen him looking so carefree.

After bidding Éowyn goodbye and promising her that I would return for her afternoon nap, I strode purposefully down to the barracks where Damrod and Mablung were temporarily garrisoned until Dam was well enough to return to duty. Before I had a chance to enter the building, I caught sight of Dam and Mab on the practice field, explaining to Madach the proper way to hold a short bow. I heard Mablung say, "Remember to inhale full. Exhale halfway and hold. Draw, take careful aim, and then when you are certain of your shot, release." I watched silently as Madach took the bow and arrow from Mablung and took careful aim at the practice target a few yards down-field. He loosed the arrow and hit the target, though the arrow landed nowhere near the middle. I called a greeting out to them, and all three turned, smiling and speaking of their happiness to see me on the mend.

"Master Madach, how fare you? Are you enjoying yourself?"

"I am well, Faramir. . . ."

"Lord Faramir!" Mablung corrected him.

". . . Lord Faramir. I like shooting arrows very much."

"Are you taking good care of these two?" I asked him.

"Aye, though I tire of constantly mending their clothes. I think they have not mended any in years," he grumbled.

Mablung laughed. "We were waiting for years for your nimble fingers, Mad."

"Dam, how fares your wound?" I asked, glancing at his arm that rested in a sling like my own.

"It is sore yet, Captain, but it heals, and the healers tell me that I shall have full use of it again soon."

"That is good news, my friend. You do not grow bored with idleness?"

He smiled. "Nay, Captain. Mablung and I have taken young Madach here in hand and are showing him the proper path to becoming a ranger if he so chooses!" Dam and Mab both mussed Madach's hair affectionately, and the boy grumbled something under his breath, though he did not look entirely displeased by their attention. It was reassuring to see he had gained some weight since I had seen him last, and he appeared healthy and happy.

"It is heartening to see you all doing so well," I stated.

"And you, Captain? How fare you?" ventured Dam.

"I am as happy as a man can be!"

"Aye, it is plain on your face," said Mab.

"What say you? Do you have liberty to take lunch with me, gentlemen?"

"Aye, Captain, we have no true duties for another week," Mablung explained.

"The Hound's Tooth, then?" I suggested.

Dam and Mab both nodded their agreement enthusiastically, and I could see their mouths watering. "I have been longing for a thick cut of roast venison with potatoes and a large tankard of the best ale in the city to wash it down!" said Damrod.

"Aye," agreed Mablung.

"And you, Master Madach? Are you hungry as well?"

He smiled. "I am always hungry, Far . . . I mean, Lord Faramir."

"Well, come then! Let us lunch together, and we can spend the time catching up!" They all agreed, and Madach ran to put away his bow and quiver before we walked up to the Hound's Tooth on the third level, two levels up from where we had been standing. The public house was as busy as ever, able to boast one of the finest ales brewed in Minas Tirith, but the owner found us a corner table, and we settled down with three pints of dark ale for us men, and a half-pint of well-watered ale for Madach. The crowd was rather raucous for midday, but it only added to the atmosphere of the place, and I found myself relaxing despite the nightmare I had suffered. I would discuss it with Éowyn this afternoon.

* * *

Éowyn 

"Brother?" I repeated after my husband departed the chamber. "What has happened to you?" He was bedraggled and soaking wet, and yet he was not angry, in fact, he was smiling. I was confused. "Are you injured?" I ventured.

He looked down upon himself, just seeming to realize that he was wet. "No, I went swimming," he said to me.

I looked at him like the fool he was. "In all of your clothes? What did you say to Lothíriel _this_ time?"

He laughed. "She did not toss me into the water. I jumped in after her."

"Is she all right?"

"Oh, yes, the men at Harlond fished her out of the river," he said, lost in some memory.

"Éomer! Speak plainly!"

His eyes met mine then, and they shone with absolute happiness. "Éowyn, I am in love," he whispered as if he did not quite believe it himself.

"Oh, Éomer!" My heart lifted as I stood and went to him, hugging him tightly despite his sodden state. "I am so happy for you! How does she feel about you?"

"I think she feels the same," he said softly, a hint of amazement in his words. I could not cease to smile as I had never seen him thus affected before. I released him and then proceeded to scold him for daring to come into my house in such a state, and when he accepted the berating with a good nature, I knew that my brother really had been smitten by Lothíriel, and he would never be the same again.

* * *

Faramir 

When I returned from lunch, I found Éowyn already in our bedchamber, relaxing in an upholstered chair with a cool drink. I smiled broadly at her and then gave her a kiss before I sat upon the edge of the bed and slipped off my boots. "How fares my lovely wife and my son?" I asked.

"Faramir, please, do not."

"Éowyn?" I was uncertain of what she was speaking.

"Do not begin that unending gushing over the babe. It is tiresome."

I frowned. "I did not realize that I was gushing. Are _you_ well?"

She took a sip of her drink. "I am well enough." She changed the subject. "How was your lunch?"

"It was heartening. Damrod's arm is healing well. Madach is being well cared for. And Mablung is as reliable and friendly as ever."

"Good. I am glad, husband. I very much like Damrod and Mablung, and they absolutely dote on you. And I am glad to hear that Madach is doing well also. Naught is too good for the boy who saved my husband's life twice."

"I am pleased to hear you say so, for I have been thinking about Madach's future. He is too young to officially join the rangers yet, and I think that the boy deserves to be allowed to choose what he wishes to do with his life. I wonder what your thoughts would be if I told you that I think that he should be returned to his mother in South Gondor until he is old enough to choose. As a reward for all that he has done for me, I would provide him and his family with a monthly stipend so they do not have to worry about whence comes their next meal."

She seemed to think my words over for a moment before she said, "Does he wish to return?"

"I have not asked him, though I would think he might miss his family."

Her gaze grew hard. "I do not think that _woman_ deserves any special treatment, most especially from you, Faramir. But I think that it should wholly be Madach's decision about whether to return to South Gondor or not."

"Of course, Éowyn. I should remind you, though, that Almaria did save my life, even if she made a mistake in selling me to the Haradrim after I recovered from my fever."

"I do not wish to be reminded of it."

It was obvious that the subject of our conversation was not to her liking. "As you wish, Éowyn," I murmured. "Will you take a nap now? You need more rest with the baby on the way."

"Faramir!" she said sternly, her eyes flashing. "I am not a child, and I do not require coddling or, indeed, any special treatment from you. Your heir shall be delivered in due time, Lord Steward." I stood from the bed, speechless as she went on. "I do not need to be reminded constantly that your son resides in my womb as I am woefully aware of it every waking minute."

"Woefully? Éowyn, what has happened?"

"I am under-prepared for this responsibility, but there is little that I can do about it now."

"I thought that you wished for children. . . ."

"I thought so as well, but the more that I think on it, the more I realize that as a mother, I shall have little freedom to do the things in my life I wish to accomplish."

I took a step toward her. "Nonsense! There shall be a nurse to aid you, and your friends. . . . Éowyn, I have explained this to you. You are not alone in this thing. I am here with you, love. Do you not realize that I am at your call day and night?"

"You were not at my call three weeks ago, my lord. In fact, no one knew where you were or if you were even alive at that time."

Her words wounded me. "That was a special situation! Never would I leave your side now, my love. Do you not know this yet? I vowed before you and our king that I would not, and I do not take that lightly."

She finally relented. "I am sorry. I am out of sorts today."

I opened my arms to her. "Come, Éowyn. I would hold you while you sleep." I had decided not to burden her with my nightmare after all as it was apparent that she already had much on her mind.

As we settled into bed, her body curled against mine, and she sighed softly as she got comfortable. "I love you, Faramir," she murmured, and I kissed her brow as she quietly slipped into slumber. But sleep would not come to me as I watched over her, hoping that my dream was just that--a dream.

* * *

Imrahil 

Had it not been for the presence of Arwen at dinner, I might have felt myself the odd man out that evening. My nephew and his wife could not take their eyes from one another it seemed, and the conversation suffered mightily because of it, though the queen and I did not complain. Éowyn had never appeared more lovely, her face glowing, her grey eyes sparkling with love, and it was quite obvious that my nephew was struggling against his natural instincts to whisk her away somewhere private. But even more heartening were the looks that passed between Thíri and Éomer.

My daughter would not tell me at first what had happened to her, though her new black silk gown had appeared to be completely ruined, and she had been soaked to the bone when she had arrived at the inn. I thought that for her to be seen in public in such a state would have angered her, but she never once ceased to smile before she went to her room to make herself presentable again. _Thank you, Éomer,_ I thought, thrilled that they had finally found some good in one another.

When she had again emerged, now clad in a becoming shade of violet, I managed to coax the full story of the events of her morning from her, and as she told it, her expression grew more and more dreamy as she became more enamored of Lord Éomer by the minute. I realized just how much I would miss my daughter after she was wed and moved away from Dol Amroth.

"Daddy, are you all right?" I heard her ask, and then I realized that I had not been listening to her for some time.

"What? Oh, yes, I am fine, Thíri," I said, rather distractedly.

She had remained silent only a moment longer before she continued her story, telling me that Lord Éomer had accompanied her to the stables when they had returned to Minas Tirith, and, though he was yet soaking wet as well, he had seen to her gelding himself to make certain that the beast had not been ridden over-hard that day before he had escorted her back to the inn. She had been absolutely glowing as she spoke of the King of Rohan, and I had set aside my bittersweet emotions and drawn her into my embrace.

"My dear, I am so happy for you!" I exclaimed. Not long after, she had once again set out to find Éomer, as she had told me that he had expressed an interest in allowing her to choose some new clothing for him. And now, my daughter and Lord Éomer, dressed in a smart silk shirt in a deep crimson shade so different from his usual beige linen, sat across the table from each other, smiling and occasionally even giggling at one another as they ate their dinner in apparent bliss.

"They are lovely together," murmured the queen with a wistful smile upon her face as she watched them interacting.

"You miss Aragorn," I stated quietly, taking a sip of wine.

"I do indeed. I am beginning to wonder if his new station in life shall ever allow us any time to ourselves."

"His position is very important, but I am certain that you shall find time to spend together when he at last returns from Poros. The Haradrim cannot keep him occupied forever."

"I know, and patience is usually one of my stronger virtues, but of late, I have felt lonely without Estel, my Ada or my brothers. Lady Éowyn has been so occupied with Lord Faramir, and now I see that Lady Lothíriel is in a similar quandary." She laughed softly, and the sound was like music. "Listen to me. I sound like a lovesick girl."

I smiled. "Are you not?"

"Nay, I am not," she smiled in return. "Forgive me my temporary melancholy, Lord Imrahil."

"There is naught to forgive." She glanced at Faramir and Éowyn and smiled broadly.

"In truth, I feel much happier just for observing those two. There is something very reassuring about their love. It is constant and immeasurable and timeless and to see them together is to realize that very good things can emerge from terrible circumstances."

Faramir felt our eyes upon him, and as he looked at us, a flush spread over his features. Éowyn, too, turned toward us as Faramir said, "Forgive me. I have been a very poor host this evening." He stood, clearing his throat to get everyone's attention before raising his glass in a toast. "To Éowyn," he spoke, "the mother of the future Steward of Gondor and my dearest treasure." Before I drank, I noticed a brief moment of unhappiness upon Éowyn's face, and it did not escape me how Faramir's words could be taken two different ways.

"To Éowyn!" we all spoke and drank our wine. But after Éowyn stiffly murmured her thanks, she whispered something into Faramir's ear and then rose quickly from the table, departing the room without a word.

"Is she all right?" questioned Arwen of my nephew, who had put down his wine glass and was looking rather lost.

"I am afraid that my lady wife is not feeling well again this evening. My son is giving her much trouble already, it seems, and he has not even entered the world yet!" He smiled slightly, and we joined him with polite laughter, but it was apparent from his expression that he was concerned about her. "It is naught really, only that she is tired from the day's exertions."

"My lord," said Arwen, "will you not go to her?"

He shrugged. "She does not wish for me to attend her," he stated, his expression downcast. It was silent in the room as we awaited him to move or say something. At last he raised his eyes again to us and asked, "Shall we retire now to the great hall?"

We all agreed and followed him, and I wondered just what exactly was going on between the Steward of Gondor and his wife.


	6. Chapter 6

Lothíriel

"My lord," I purred from the doorway, seeing that Éomer had stepped into the garden and was enjoying the clear evening.

He turned abruptly to face me. "My lady, I have been waiting for you," he replied, bowing before he held his hand out to me. I swept forward and placed my hand in his larger one, feeling its warmth as it gently closed around mine. But I saw naught but his alluring face, his expression tender, his eyes warm as they searched mine. Without breaking eye contact, he bent and kissed my hand. He rose, and then, in a voice that sent a thrill through me, he said, "I had a very good time today."

"As did I," I murmured, enthralled by his tone.

He smiled at me, and I laughed when he said, "We should go swimming more often."

"Perhaps, though I know now that I should have called back to you so you would have known that I was all right."

He nodded. "Yes, you should have. I shall never live this day down, but I find that the reward far exceeds the savage beating that my pride has received."

"I should not have told the men who you were."

"No, you should not have, though I deem they might have known me anyway."

"Lord Éomer, would you ride with me yet a third time on the morrow?"

"I would indeed if you think your mount is up to it," he replied, smiling broadly.

His smile was magical, I thought, but I could not help but narrow my eyes at him and ask, "Is yours?"

"Firefoot is always ready, my lady."

"Then shall we break our fast together again?"

His expression intensified, and he took a step closer to me. "I would like that very much."

His brown eyes were so beautiful that I felt as if I could fall into them and drown happily. I could feel his breath upon my face as he came closer and closer. Just as I closed my eyes, preparing to succumb to the lure of his lips, there was the sound of a throat being cleared behind me.

I whirled as Éomer pulled back, looking almost embarrassed. "Daddy!"

"Forgive me, Thíri, Éomer. I was only seeking a breath of fresh air. I did not realize that the garden was already occupied."

"No matter," I heard Éomer say from behind me. "We had concluded our business anyway, Imrahil."

_Business?_ But when I turned to face him, his expression was yet tender and loving . . . and regretful.

He spoke further. "I shall see you on the morrow then, Lady Lothíriel, say, at dawn?"

I nodded, unable to speak, so frustrated was I by my father's interruption, but I squeezed Lord Éomer's hand in farewell, and, after casting a glare toward Daddy, I departed the garden to thank Fara and Éowyn for dinner. It was rather odd, but I thought that I saw a look pass between the two men before I left. I could have sworn that I saw Daddy wink at Éomer, and the king, in turn, smiled at my father, but it might have just been my imagination.

* * *

Éowyn

I had fled the dining hall, unable to stand my husband's never-ending obsession with "his son" any longer. The toast he had made had been the deciding factor, as he spoke of the babe as "his dearest treasure." I had made it plain that I had not wished for any more of his company, and I had retired to my bedchamber, glad for the silence there.

Ever since he had returned that afternoon from visiting with Mablung, Damrod and Madach, he had spoken about naught but the babe, and though I felt selfish to deny him his obvious pleasure, I could not suffer it any longer that day. But my feeling of annoyance at the endless gushing over his heir and the accompanying guilt for feeling the need to shun my husband's company was beginning to overshadow my loving feelings toward this unborn child. Now my head was pounding, and I knew that I needed to rest. As I lay down upon the bed, I wondered at my unnatural feelings. I loved Faramir with all of my heart, but I suddenly felt as if he were smothering me.

My main trouble was simply that I was scared to have this baby, though it was something that I would never admit aloud for fear of seeming weak. I knew naught about babies other than they needed to be fed and diapered often. But there was no one in whom I felt I could confide, and I had only felt this alone one other time in my life, when Éomer had been banished from Edoras by Théoden-King, who was under the influence of Grima Wormtongue's evil magic.

When at last I dozed, I slept fitfully, having strange, dark dreams that left me feeling hollow and frightened, until at last I awakened bathed in a cold sweat, calling out for Faramir in the night. It was late, for he had obviously been sleeping soundly, but he soothed me with soft words and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against his warmth, and I was safe once more.

* * *

Faramir

"Good morning, Éowyn," I purred into my sleeping wife's ear, hoping that she was no longer wroth with me. She stirred slightly with a faint moan and turned onto her side away from me. "My lady, it grows late. Will you not rise and break your fast with me?"

Éowyn said naught for a moment, and I thought that perhaps she had returned to her slumber, but then she sighed and turned abruptly onto her back again, looking up at me sitting next to her as I twisted a tendril of her shining hair around my fingers. "I am not hungry, Faramir."

Never could I remember her not being hungry in the morning, and I know that my concern was evident upon my face. She grinned wearily at my expression and reached up, placing her hand upon my cheek. "I shall rise with you, my lord. Fear not."

"But I do fear, my love. Would you sleep longer?"

"Nay, Faramir," she said, sitting up next to me. I thought that she looked more pale and tired than usual but said naught of it.

"Do you wish to dine within our bedchamber this morning, my lady?"

Her voice took on a sharp edge, and she turned a hard gaze upon me. "Faramir, I am not an invalid. I am quite capable of going to the dining hall to break my fast." I remained silent, unwilling to annoy her further with my bumbling words. Rising from the bed, I found my dressing gown, draping it over my left shoulder and then deftly sliding my right arm into the sleeve. I had much practice now doing things one-handed since I had returned home as I did not possess the patience to have someone aid me with everything that I needed to have done for myself.

I crossed to Éowyn's side of the bed, holding her dressing gown for her as she donned it. She murmured her thanks, and I offered her my right arm to her, intending to escort her downstairs, but she hesitated. I opened my mouth to apologize to her, thinking her yet annoyed by me, but then suddenly all color fled her face, and she was running toward the unused wash basin upon its stand. Just as she reached it, she retched into it. Without a word I came to stand behind her, supporting her as best as I could against my body as I pulled her unbound hair away from her face with my right hand, murmuring endearments to her, wishing that there was more I could do for her.

Finally, when she had finished, I sank onto one knee behind her and offered her my right leg as a seat. She gratefully descended upon it, and I held her shivering form within the circle of my arm as she rested her head upon my shoulder. "Éowyn?" I ventured.

"I told you that I was not particularly hungry," she joked feebly. We remained that way for some minutes before she was evidently feeling well enough to stand. I stood, too, and suggested that she return to our bed as she clung to my arm for a moment. "Nay, Faramir. I am well enough now. Allow me to clean up a bit, and I shall meet you downstairs in a few minutes."

"Éowyn, I would not leave you alone. Will you not let me help you?"

"No, love. I require no help."

Seating her upon a nearby chair, I crossed the chamber to the bellpull and yanked on it. "Serni shall attend you, my dear."

She sighed and nodded, and it worried me that she seemed not to have the will to argue. She looked somewhat distraught as I returned to her side. "If you do not feel well enough to join me. . . ." She silenced me with a word and a look.

"Faramir."

I remained silently vigilant until her handmaiden arrived, and only then did I remind her that I should be close by should she require aught else before I departed our room, closing the door behind me and standing outside of it for a few moments before I went downstairs to the dining hall.

Our cook, Talaith, had prepared many delicious dishes for breakfast, but I told her that I only wished for tea this morning. She seemed somewhat surprised, almost hurt by my request, but she brought the teapot and a pot of honey and left me alone with my thoughts.

As I sat sipping my tea, I heard a commotion in the foyer, and then Serni was shouting for me. Standing up so quickly that I overturned my chair, I dashed from the dining hall to find Serni crouched next to a still body lying at the foot of the staircase.

"Éowyn! Eru's tears, how did this happen?"

Fear gripped me as I reached her side and knelt next to her. Her face was deathly pale, and I was afraid to touch her since I knew not how badly injured that she might be.

"Go! Fetch a healer!" I shouted to no one in particular before I gently took my wife's hand within my own. "Éowyn?" She moved not, and I bent closer to her, quietly begging her to awaken.

Serni produced a cold cloth from somewhere and gently placed it upon Éowyn's brow. It had the desired effect as my wife took a deeper breath and then her grey eyes opened slowly.

"What has happened?" she murmured, and Serni provided the answer. But I knew that she was truly injured when she merely nodded slightly and closed her eyes again.

"Éowyn?" I softly stroked her cheek and found that she was burning with fever. "Valar," I whispered, "where is that healer?"

She opened her eyes again, and her gaze fell upon me. I squeezed her hand slightly and tried to smile at her reassuringly. "Faramir, what has happened?"

"Eru," moaned the handmaiden as I repeated what Serni had just told her, but Éowyn seemed confused by this.

"I am sorry, sir," she said after a little time had passed, "but could you show me the way to my uncle's chambers? I seem to be lost."

"Indeed," I said, and my voice nearly broke upon that single word as I realized that my own wife no longer recognized me.

"She must have struck her head, Lord Faramir."

"Perhaps, though she also burns with fever, Serni." I silently berated myself for not noticing it while we were yet together upstairs.

"Lord Aragorn?" queried Éowyn, and I gasped at the depth of affection within her eyes as she looked up at me, thinking that I was the king.

"Nay," said Serni, trying to soothe her mistress. "He is not in the city, Lady Éowyn."

"I do not understand. He was here but a moment ago."

"Éowyn, do you not recognize me?" I asked her.

With fever-bright eyes, she gazed upon me, blinking. "There is something vaguely familiar about you. Are you a friend to Éomer?"

I nodded slowly, at a loss for words.

"Strange. You do not have the usual features of a Rider of the Mark. Did you arrive with Lord Aragorn?"

"Rest, Éowyn, please. A healer is on the way to aid you."

"But, what has happened?" she repeated yet again. "And why do you address me so informally, sir?"

I sighed shakily. "Forgive me, my lady. I forgot myself." I thought that she might say more, but she closed her eyes and drifted away.

"Eru, Lord Faramir," Serni whispered, obviously worried for her lady.

I stood as a middle-aged man carrying a cloth bag, barreled into the house behind our guard Foli. The man immediately crouched next to my wife, beginning to examine her even as he introduced himself.

"I am Gethron from the Houses of Healing. Did she fall, my lord?"

"Yes," I supplied. "She does not recognize me. In fact, she seems to think that she is in some other time, for she was asking after her dead uncle."

"That is most probably a direct effect of this fever, for I feel no injuries upon her head."

"Master Gethron, she is with child." He glanced back at me with a concerned look upon his face and then spoke to the servants.

"I need a quantity of cold water and cloth. Lord Steward, is there a bedchamber upon this level?"

"Yes," I said, feeling useless.

"Someone bring a blanket to carry her upon." He stood as the servants brought forth all that he had requested. Gently Gethron and Foli with Serni's help arranged Éowyn upon the unfolded blanket, and she was carefully raised from the floor by the men. "Lead the way," the healer said, and I showed him to where our guest quarters were located.

They gently deposited her atop the bedclothes while I stayed back, trying to keep out of the way. As Gethron applied a new cold compress to her brow, she awakened once more, and this time she was obviously alarmed as she struggled beneath the healer's hands.

Gethron moved out of her line of sight, hoping that she might calm down, but instead, she became all the more frantic. Unable to watch her suffer any longer, I moved closer.

"Lady Éowyn," I spoke softly as I approached her. "How fare you?"

"I am hot, my lord," she replied weakly, her hands scrabbling feebly at her dressing gown.

Gently I sat upon the edge of the bed and reached toward her, intending to make her more comfortable by helping her with the ties upon the garment. But her eyes focused upon me, and a certain venom entered her voice.

"Take yourself away from me, worm, or I shall set my brother upon you! Never shall you touch me again!"

I stood abruptly and took a step back, certain that she thought me to be Grima Wormtongue. "Please, Éowyn, I am your husband."

"Lies! Do not think to trick me with your words! When Éomer returns, he shall skin you alive!" she spat. Never had I seen the full force of Éowyn's wrath, and now, with it directed at me, I was speechless. She slipped into Rohirric, and the curses she screamed at me burned into my mind.

"Perhaps you should wait without, Lord Faramir," murmured Gethron, and I nodded and reluctantly departed the room, pacing up and down the hallway, hearing her cry out in her delirium occasionally. My thoughts were filled with the harsh words she had flung at me as she had thought me to be the man that she had most loathed.

Finally I could take it no longer when I heard her screaming for her brother, as my heart was wrenched in twain by her cries. I thought it highly unlikely that she should call for me anytime soon, as it seemed that I did not yet exist in her fevered dreams, so I hastily sought the company of my uncle.


	7. Chapter 7

Imrahil

My manservant, Herion, came to me before I had finished breakfast to inform me that my nephew had come to visit me. Always have I enjoyed Faramir's quiet company, and as I was eating in my room this morning, shunning the public room for the quiet solitude that I often enjoy, I poured us both some tea while I waited for him to be ushered inside. But as he entered, and I rose to greet him, I knew immediately that something was dreadfully wrong.

Faramir was as pale as he had been almost two weeks ago when Éowyn, Thíri, and I had brought him home from his punishing stay upon the River Poros. I immediately asked him what was wrong as I pushed him into one of the armchairs.

"Uncle," he began, his tone flat despite his harried appearance. "It is Éowyn. She is not well."

This was ill news indeed. "My boy, what ails her?"

His voice grew more frantic as he swept his hand through his hair. "I know not. She burns with fever, and she swooned on her way down to join me for breakfast. I should never have left her side!" He hid his face with his hand for a moment, and I waited patiently for him to regain his composure. At last his face rose again, though his gaze remained upon the floor. "She does not recognize me, Uncle," he said quietly. "She called me a worm."

"Fever can be a cruel symptom, my boy. But when it wanes, she shall know your face again."

"But what of our son?" The words were spoken so softly that I had almost not heard them.

I sighed, unable to offer any reassuring words to him as the enormity of the torment that he was suffering at last occurred to me. I placed my hand upon his shoulder and squeezed it briefly. "I am glad that you came to me, Faramir, for ever do I think of you as one of my own sons. Whatever happens, I shall be here with you."

He nodded, yet did not meet my eyes. "Thank you, Uncle," he murmured, and I took up a cup of tea, thrusting it into his hands.

"Drink this, my boy. No, do not argue," I added quickly as it seemed he would refuse. "Rest here if you can. I have a small errand to complete, and then I shall accompany you back to your home, all right?"

Holding the cup, he nodded absently, his thoughts obviously with Éowyn. I hurried into the corridor, calling to Herion. He appeared almost instantly in the hallway, and I told him to have the queen fetched to the steward's house immediately and to have Thíri and Èomer found as soon as possible, for they had departed quite early to go riding again. Faramir would need every friend who was available close to him that day, I knew.

When I had finished speaking with Herion, and he had assured me that he would send the fastest messengers in my retinue, I returned to my room, finding my nephew yet motionless in the chair, a haunted expression upon his pale face, his tea untouched. I worried for his health, wondering if he might have a relapse of some sort after being placed under this sudden, terrible strain.

"My boy," I said softly, hoping to wake him from his brooding as I gently took the cup from his trembling hand. "Come. Let us see how your lady and son are faring."

He nodded and stood slowly. I thought that he might have to be led home like a child, but as we walked together down the stairs, stepping from the inn and onto the public street, I witnessed a startling transformation as if he had drawn an invisible mantle of strength about his shoulders. Suddenly Faramir, Steward of Gondor and Prince of Ithilien walked silently by my side, no longer showing his fear or any outward sign of weakness. It was quite a remarkable feat of self-control, but I shuddered as I thought of how much he reminded me of Denethor at that moment.

* * *

Arwen

The guard who strode into my garden at some speed was apologetic for interrupting my morning walk, though I could see immediately from his expression that his arrival was due to a matter of grave importance.

"My queen," he spoke as he bowed. "The Prince of Dol Amroth requests your immediate presence at the steward's residence."

"Lord Faramir?" I guessed.

"Nay, my queen. It is Lady Éowyn. She has been injured somehow."

"Injured? Go forth, and inform them that I shall arrive presently."

He bowed and ran from my presence as I rushed back into the Citadel to gather together what few herbs I possessed. Within minutes I was upon the doorstep of the steward's residence, and I was quickly shown to the room where Éowyn had been taken.

She was delirious and would not allow Gethron to come anywhere near her, though her handmaiden was attempting to assure her mistress that no one there meant her any harm. I spoke her name in the manner that Ada had taught me centuries ago, and her attention immediately came fully upon me, her eyes wide in either fear or awe as I slowly approached her bed.

"Éowyn, what has happened?" I asked her gently, but she did not answer me. Her maid supplied me with the information of the events of the morning, and I gently examined the steward's wife, caressing her limbs reassuringly, quelling her fears, though she appeared not to recognize me, nor indeed anyone else around her. The lady had some bruises, but they did not worry me nearly as much as the heat of the high fever that radiated from her body.

"Where is Lord Faramir?" I asked her.

Her brow furrowed. "I know no Lord Faramir, my lady," she murmured.

Gethron replied. "I suggested to him that she might be more comfortable if he was not here, for she seemed genuinely afraid of him, Lady Arwen."

I nodded. "It might be better for her if you would leave also, Gethron. Send to me a female healer. Her presence should be much more soothing for the Lady Éowyn in this state."

"Yes, my lady," said Gethron, gathering his bag from the bedside table and rapidly departing without another word.

"Éowyn, what has happened?" I repeated.

"Éomer," she moaned quietly. "Where is my brother?"

"I know not, though he shall be brought to you as soon as he is found." I sent a querying glance toward the maid, and she informed me that Lord Èomer had left the city to ride upon the Pelennor Fields with Lady Lothíriel.

"Who are you, my lady?" asked Éowyn.

"I am Arwen, daughter of Lord Elrond of Imladris." She appeared so confused, and I knew that indeed she did not remember me.

Her eyes widened in amazement. "An Elf? Why does one of your fair folk come to us here in Edoras? Do you bring forth a message from your father?"

"Nay, my lady. There is no message. I have simply come to help you, Lady Éowyn."

Her confusion was complete, and as I worked to lower her fever, I worried.

"Did my uncle send for you?"

"Nay, he did not. I was sent to you by Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth on behalf of Faramir of Gondor."

She did not seem to recognize either name. "And what do these men know of me? What help do you offer?"

"Only my skill as a healer, my lady. You are quite ill."

She did not believe me. "I am tired in truth, but I do not feel ill. Who is this Prince Imrahil, this Faramir?"

"Éowyn, Imrahil is Faramir's uncle." I paused.

"And Faramir?"

I decided that a half-truth might be less alarming for her. "He is your betrothed, my lady."

"What? How is this possible? Uncle Théoden said naught of arranging a marriage for me. He would not do that without informing me first!"

As the shock washed through her, I did what I could to soothe her. "Peace, Éowyn. All is well. You shall see when you meet him at last that he is a most agreeable man."

"That may be, but I do not wish to wed someone whom I do not know! I do not wish to be betrothed to someone without my knowledge! I do not wish to be chained to some man who knows naught of me nor what I wish to accomplish with my life!"

"Faramir is not a man like that," I said softly, trying to calm her. "Lady Éowyn, will you not rest now? I do not wish to tax your remaining strength."

Though she was yet restless, she seemed to be tiring herself quickly, and her protests faded to weak mumbling as her maid and I removed her clothing and then covered her in cool cloths to lower her temperature while we awaited the healer.

* * *

Lothíriel

We had gone riding again, Éomer and I, since we had enjoyed ourselves so much the day before despite our unexpected dip into the Anduin. I no longer thought of him as an oaf and in truth, had not since the day before yesterday when I had first opened the door to him and had seen the unease in his eyes transform quickly to wonder as he had gazed upon my face.

Later that same day, he had complimented my riding, which coming from a Horse-Lord of Rohan was flattering indeed. But my temper had flared when he made a poor jest, and I had abandoned him to return to my room at the inn, feeling foolish for my hasty retreat by the time I arrived there. Luckily, Lord Éomer is a persistent man, and he had suggested (I am kind in using that word, I think.) that I accompany him once more. We had been more cautious of one another after our "swim," and surprisingly, he had agreed to accompany me to a tailor, where I chose some cloth that I thought would complement his eyes, and he ordered a shirt to be made from it. The tailor had placed the King of Rohan's request above his other work and after he had taken Lord Éomer's measurements, he made the shirt in record time. I had felt sad when the day eventually had to end, and he must have as well, because after dinner that evening when I had suggested yet more riding on the morrow and another picnic lunch, he had gladly agreed.

And so today we had departed Minas Tirith even earlier, closer to dawn, and for the third morning in a row, I had relished the look in the King of Rohan's eyes when he rested them upon me as I opened the door to my room. "The dawn becomes you, my lady," he said, and I smiled at him, his simple words bringing me immense pleasure.

"I am surprised to hear you say that, my lord."

He raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Why so?"

"Because I could not sleep at all last night for thinking about you."

His expression melted into one of great tenderness. "No one could tell it to gaze upon you, Lady Lothíriel. You are as lovely as ever." He bowed over my hand and kissed it much as he had done when my father had presented me to him three days ago, before he smiled at me and led me to our mounts once again.

Today, after he lifted me onto Roäc's back, I allowed him to set the pace and choose the path that we traveled. We soon found ourselves under the same oak tree where we had eaten lunch two days before, though it was nowhere near noon. He spoke to me in his rich, baritone voice, as he circled his stallion around my gelding until he was beside me, facing the direction whence we had come. "My lady, since I first discovered your beauty and grace two days ago, I have longed to taste your lips. Would you allow me to kiss you?"

The request struck me dumb. We had come so close to kissing last night, and I had wondered as I had tossed and turned in my bed, waiting for morning, if he might kiss me today. Never would I have expected the King of Rohan to ask my permission first. But I was quite willing, and so I just nodded to him, and Éomer moved Firefoot so close to Roäc that our legs were touching before he leaned toward me ever so slowly, his brown eyes searching mine at first and then closing as his lips brushed against mine with the barest whisper of contact. He drew back slightly as if judging my reaction, and then I realized that he was savoring this moment as much as I was, as he finally leaned in, and captured my lips with his own, gently kissing me.

My heart was pounding so hard, I thought that I could hear it in my own ears, until Éomer abruptly broke off, looking over my shoulder with no little annoyance upon his face. I turned Roäc around until I was facing in the same direction as the king and saw a rider approaching at breakneck speed, shouting to us. As the man drew near, I saw that he was dressed in the livery of a Guard of the Citadel, and the words that he spoke made my head spin faster than Lord Éomer's kiss had. Without another word we departed for Minas Tirith at a gallop, hoping that Éowyn was all right, our kiss all but forgotten.

* * *

Faramir

I could hear Éowyn's screams before we even entered the house, and had my uncle not been with me, I might have lost my self-control. As we stepped inside the front entrance, I was met by Serni who curtsied before informing me in a trembling voice that a female healer who had arrived not long before I had, had told her that should she and the queen not be able to reduce Éowyn's fever ere two or three more hours had passed, I should most likely lose her.

I felt the floor lurch beneath my feet, and then I found myself in a chair in the great hall, Uncle Imrahil looking down at me, a cup of water in one hand, a thin book in the other that he was using to fan air into my face. His expression emphasized that this was not a nightmare, and I knew not what to do. I closed my eyes against the harsh light of day, unable to bear the look upon my uncle's face any longer.

"Faramir, be strong," he whispered, and then Lothíriel was there with us, grasping my hand, praying aloud for Éowyn. Opening my eyes, I looked up at her and realized that the fear etched upon her face was for me as well as my wife. Éowyn's frantic cries tore at my heart, and her maid sat apart from us, sobbing quietly into her hands.

When Éomer arrived, he was ushered directly into Éowyn's room, and I stupidly resented the fact that Éowyn's brother was allowed to go to her when I could not. I stood up abruptly and, ignoring everyone around me, moved into the corridor outside of her room, placing my hand upon the closed door, wishing that my presence did not frighten her when it was meant only to comfort.

I could hear her speaking now, her screams thankfully quieted, and Éomer replied to her, his voice strong and sure, though I could not hear their words. I was glad, though, for it seemed that he was giving her some measure of peace.

* * *

Éomer

Though the messenger had ridden to us with the terrible news, nothing could have prepared me for the moment when I arrived again at the steward's residence, hearing Éowyn's shrill voice before I ever entered her room. But I was nearly shocked speechless when I laid eyes upon her. She was fevered, her eyes filled with a frightened, angry intensity that I had not witnessed in her before, and she ranted against the queen and the other woman who was there trying to tend her.

"Sister, what troubles you?" I asked, drawing her attention toward me with my voice, and she immediately reached forth her hands to me. As I stepped forward, she took my hand, holding on as if she were a drowning woman hoping to be pulled from a raging river.

"Oh, Éomer, you came back!"

"Yes," I said, pulling the chair closer to the bed and sitting in it. "I am here, Éowyn. What is wrong?"

"Éomer," she began quietly, her eyes wild with delirium, both of her hands tightening upon mine. "He is returned."

"Who is returned?"

"Grima. He is back."

I could not believe my ears. With one word she had sent us both back more than two years in time. Dread filled my heart. "Éowyn, he is dead. He is not coming back."

"I saw him," she explained, as if I had not understood her words the first time. "He was telling me lies again, trying to trick me into marrying him. But I saw through his ruse, Brother."

I knew not what to say, and I looked to Lady Arwen for some guidance. She offered none, and I could see that she was worried as she prepared some brew for my sister.

"Éowyn, all shall be well," I told her, my heart filled with dread. I knew the truth was all that she would accept. "You must rest now or you may not live to see the morrow, my sister. There are a good many people worried about you. Will you not try to sleep?"

"I cannot," she breathed frantically. Finally, she asked, "Will you watch over me, Brother?"

I nodded. "I will," I managed to say, gazing steadily into her bright grey eyes. "I will guard you until you have no further need of me, Éowyn." With a sigh, she relaxed into unconsciousness, and I swallowed my emotion at seeing her so ill, keeping hold of her hand as I silently watched Arwen coax her finished potion into my sister.

"Should I go?" I asked, never having spent much time in sickrooms.

"Nay, Lord Éomer, I think your presence is the best medicine for your sister at the moment," said Arwen, and so I settled into the chair and waited to see what might happen, praying that Éowyn's strength would see her through this.

* * *

Arwen

It was a couple of hours before we forced Éowyn's fever to a tolerable level, but many hours passed before it finally broke. Her brother had left the room to refresh himself when he learned that she would live, though I was certain that he merely felt a need to express his emotion somewhere away from other eyes. I sent the healer home to rest, and I remained with the lady. When I was completely certain that she was stable, I went to her husband, finding him in his own darkened great hall, resting in an armchair, while his uncle and cousin napped upon the nearby couches.

"Faramir," I whispered to him, waking him from the slight doze into which he had fallen.

"Éowyn?" Too quickly he was upon his feet, and though I did not wish to anger him, I laid a hand upon his shoulder, bidding him wordlessly to slow down. He turned his weary face toward me and nodded slightly as I pressed him back down into the chair, lowering myself into the one opposite him.

"Her fever is broken, my lord."

He released a pent up breath of relief as he studied my face in the dim light from the fireplace. "There is more," he stated flatly.

I nodded, but before I could speak, he knew what I would say. His face fell, as his chin dropped to his chest, and though he tried, a quiet sob escaped his lips before he could stop it. "Faramir, do not forget that your wife shall live. I am certain that it is difficult for you, but there shall be other children. You still have each other."

After a few moments, he looked up at me, the tracks of his tears visible upon his cheeks. "Does she know?" he asked, and I shook my head.

"No, she has not been told yet. Would you like to see her now?"

He nodded, and rose a little unsteadily, before he shambled forth into the corridor, stopping briefly at the closed door to compose himself before he entered and went directly to Éowyn, her name upon his lips before he pressed them gently against her brow. He sat in the bedside chair and pulled her limp hand into his grasp.

I made myself unobtrusive by sitting in the chair nearest the windows and watched as Éowyn opened her eyes, slowly turning her face toward Faramir, his haggard face lightening a bit as he smiled wanly at her.

"Faramir," she croaked weakly and a smile touched her lips.

His relief was palpable as he realized that she once again recognized him. "My love," he spoke, "can you ever forgive me?"

Confusion creased her features for a moment, but then she smiled again. Her voice was barely audible even in the silence of the room. "Faramir, I know not why you ask that."

"I ask it because I love you."

"And I love you, husband." She winced as she tried to move and Faramir gently stilled her with his hands. "I feel wretched," she said. "What happened to me?" she asked, and his gaze flicked to my face.

Even centuries of living cannot soften the blow of the death of one's own child, even an unborn one, and I hoped that Estel and I should never have to face such a horrible time. Faramir's haunted silver eyes moved back to his wife's face, and he asked her what she could remember. After some thought, she told him that she remembered naught past when he had left her in their bedchamber with Serni.

Faramir nodded, took a breath and then explained that she had been terribly ill, though no one had realized it at the time, and she had fallen down the stairs before anyone could stop it. She listened quietly, her gaze unfaltering upon his grief-stricken face, and I knew she must be terribly aware of his sadness, she must know what news was coming. But as the words of their loss passed his lips, I could see how shocked that she was. Her face crumpled in her distress, and it was apparent that Faramir knew not what to do for her as she seemed to cave in upon herself, withdrawing even from him.

"Éowyn?" he questioned as she pulled her hand away from him.

"Go," she said, turning her face away. Faramir was hurt by her as surely as if she had slapped him across the face. I wished to go to him, but I knew that I should not interfere as he sat motionlessly, his mouth agape, so obviously wishing that he could do something for his wife.

"But, why?" he asked innocently.

"Go," she repeated more insistently.

"Please, Éowyn," he tried.

Her grief lent her strength, and from between gritted teeth, she said, "I told you to go. Go from me, and do not return until I ask for you."

He sat for a moment longer, as he dropped his chin to his chest and squeezed his eyelids closed against the threatening tears. He looked utterly defeated. "As you wish," he finally murmured, and I thought that I saw her flinch. He slowly stood up, his eyes meeting mine across the room for just a moment, the depths of his pain and confusion fathomless.

"Come back in the morning, Faramir. Perhaps she shall feel more herself then," I told him, standing from my seat.

"Arwen, I have asked you before not speak as if I am not here," said Èowyn bitterly. "My decision is made. I do not wish to see Faramir until I call for him."

Silently, he turned and departed the room, closing the door softly behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Thanks for your reviews!! Thanks also to Rosie26 who has been betaing this story for me.

* * *

Éomer

When it became apparent that Éowyn would survive her illness, though my nephew had not, I quietly slipped from her room and went to the stable to tend to Firefoot. I needed some time alone to think. What would Éowyn require when she awakened from her illness, especially when she found that she was not yet to be a mother? And I knew that Faramir would be crushed by the news, but I knew not what I might be able to do for him without offending his pride. Regardless of my ability to provide comfort to them, I knew that at least they could rely on one another for support.

When I had mastered my emotions, I returned to the steward's residence to look upon Éowyn again, hoping that she would be awake and aware of her surroundings now. But when I crept in, she yet slept, though I was rewarded with a weary smile from the Queen of Gondor, who was resting in a chair near Éowyn's bedside. She rose and led me to a pair of armchairs away from the bed, and we sat together. For once, Arwen dispensed with her usual formality and spoke to me as one concerned friend to another.

"Éomer, your sister needs you now."

"I have no intention of abandoning her," I said, uncertain of where this conversation was leading.

"That is well, for she refuses to see her husband for the nonce."

I knew not what might have brought this on. "Why?"

"I am uncertain, though it is not unheard of for someone who has suffered a miscarriage to be very temperamental, lashing out at anyone who comes close enough to hear her voice."

"I know naught of that, but I am certain she shall come to her senses soon, perhaps when she is feeling less weak."

"Perhaps," she granted, "but I would not have you far from her until then. She has need of strong support now, and I know that you can provide it until she allows Faramir to step back in."

I nodded, seeing the wisdom in her words. "And so I shall, my lady." If Éowyn would not allow her husband to stand with her during this time of grief, then the duty naturally fell to me, and I would support her in his stead, though I yet did not understand her reasoning.

* * *

Arwen

Lord Éomer obviously had received little rest in the past day, and so, it was not long before he was dozing in his chair as he awaited his sister to awaken. I, myself, was weary as well, but my self-appointed task of seeing to Éowyn and Faramir kept me from my bed. It was an undertaking that I had put upon myself from the moment that I met them when I had first arrived in Minas Tirith. Éowyn was so beautiful yet cheerless to the mere eye, and there lurked a fragility beneath her golden exterior that I knew stemmed from more than just the injuries she had suffered during her battle with the Witch-king upon the Pelennor Fields. And Faramir was so shy in my presence that I could barely get him to look me in the eye when first we were introduced. But he was unerringly polite, though he seemed lost, almost in shock from the sad and sometimes horrifying events of the past few months.

But when I at last witnessed the two of them together that same evening, there occurred an almost magical transformation. Suddenly, Éowyn was as strong as mithril, and she smiled at him, and her beauty was enhanced further by the glow of love upon her face. And when she smiled at Faramir, he smiled in return, and his face was wondrous to gaze upon. His awkwardness from before disappeared entirely, and he exuded happiness. They were as two halves of a single entity, something that I had not thought existed in the society of men, and I knew then that I must help in any way that I could to protect them both from harm, for they fiercely need one another.

As I mused upon the Steward of Gondor and his lady wife, the doorknob turned, and when the door opened, Faramir was peeking in at his wife before he entered and after a brief look to me, seated himself next to her, looking forlornly at her slumbering form. He remained so for quite awhile before Éowyn at last stirred. I rose and went to see to her, offering her some water before I brought her attention to her visitor.

Éowyn glared at her husband, though she said naught.

Faramir gazed upon her, his expression one of sadness, before he finally spoke. "My lady," he began, "what have I done?"

"Begone!" she rasped.

"Please, Éowyn, do not do this thing. I cannot bear to be apart from you when you so obviously need me, when we need one another."

"I need no one," she said stubbornly.

He could no longer hold his emotion in check. "Éowyn!" he exclaimed. "If you can give me a valid reason why you send me away, then I shall go, but until then, I will stand here and argue with you if necessary! You are being unreasonable!"

The King of Rohan stirred from his rest and sat up, looking blearily over at them. "Why all of the yelling?" he asked, standing.

"Faramir," said Éowyn. "After the conversation that we had, you think that I did not want this child. You think that I did this thing on purpose!"

"I have said no such thing nor have I thought it!"

"What is going on?" roared Éomer. I went to him and tried to explain the situation while Faramir and Éowyn continued to argue behind me.

"You did not need to say it, husband. I can see it in your eyes!"

"You see no such thing, for I do not feel that way! The only thing that I feel is sadness and disappointment that our son shall not be born now, and I know that it pains you terribly. It pains me as well, Éowyn."

"You are disappointed in me then?"

"Nay, Éowyn! I feel disappointment but not in you. This was not your fault!"

I turned to see her finally look at him again, though it was not a pleasant expression. "No, it was not my fault. It was yours! Had you not ridden off to the River Poros and gotten yourself injured, perhaps this babe might yet be alive! With all of the worrying that I did, it is a wonder that this did not happen sooner," she hissed.

His expression was one of pure shock, but it evolved into frustration and then utter fury. "I remind you that I should not have been injured in the first place had you not followed me there, my lady!"

"Enough!" thundered Éomer. "Faramir, can you not see that she needs her rest? You should not stand here shouting at her!"

Faramir turned a cold gaze upon the King of Rohan and said in a deadly calm voice, "This is not your concern, Éomer. I think that you should wait outside."

"I shall not, for she is my sister, and you are keeping her from her rest. Can you not see that your presence disturbs her, Faramir? Allow her to sleep, and resume this foolishness later!"

"You may be king in Rohan, but here you hold no power over me, Éomer," Faramir said in a quiet tone.

"Faramir, is it so difficult for you to respect my sister's wishes? Perhaps I misjudged you," said Éomer.

"Enough!" I said at last, forced to step into the middle of this row. "Both of you begone now! You are both disturbing Éowyn!" I ushered them both into the corridor and shut the door firmly behind them.

It is beyond my comprehension why mortals waste time being angry with one another. Their time upon this world is so brief at the start that to be parted from one another in anger, especially when the anger is misplaced, seems utterly ridiculous to me. For two people like Faramir and Éowyn who so obviously require each other so desperately, it is particularly maddening. But it was not my place to interfere further, so I simply asked Éowyn if she required aught. She shook her head but did not acknowledge me in any other manner, so I returned to my chair to resume my watch over her, hoping that Faramir and Éomer would be able to amend their disagreement quickly.

* * *

Éomer

Though Faramir is often solemn to the point of annoyance, as I followed him down the corridor, I quickly learned that his wrath, something that I had not faced before, is a strong force as well. I had barely stepped over the threshold into the garden when he whirled with the speed of a cat, and despite his still-healing injuries and seeming weakness, he punched me in the jaw hard enough to make me wish that I had not followed him.

"You do not interfere in matters between my wife and me, brother or no," he said quietly as he glared at me.

Though I realized that what he spoke was valid, my anger rose to meet his, and I, in turn, punched him in the face. To his credit, he did not fall, though I thought that he might as he staggered back. "As long as you continue to treat her well, I shall not interfere further."

"See that you do not."

As he retreated into his house, I sat down upon the bench near the door and rubbed my sore jaw and chuckled mirthlessly to think that I had forgotten for even a moment what a formidable warrior he had been during the War. The tales of the prowess of Faramir of Gondor had been told across the lands, but I had forgotten them since he had married my sister. I am glad that I never had to meet him in close combat for he has a punch that could flatten a mule, I deem.

* * *

Lothíriel

"Fara?" I questioned him as he staggered into the great hall where I had been dozing in a chair near the fire. "Are you well, Cousin?"

He did not answer me as he sank onto one of the couches and covered his face with his right hand. I stood from my chair, approached him quietly, and then sat next to him uncertain of what I might do for him. I looked to Daddy, but he had fallen asleep some time ago and had not again wakened. We sat motionlessly for a bit before Fara finally removed his hand from his face, leaned forward, his arms crossed before him, his head hanging. He looked completely defeated.

"What is it?" I whispered. Though his face was shrouded in darkness, I realized that he was weeping. I felt panic rising in me, but strove to keep my voice calm. "Éowyn?" I asked, thinking the worst.

He seemed about to say something but did not as he hurriedly wiped the tears from his cheeks and sat up straighter. "She is well," he murmured, allowing himself a slight smile. "She is much too stubborn to let this keep her down for long."

"Praise the Valar!" I moaned. "I thought something else horrible had happened."

He sighed shakily and turned his face toward me. Immediately my eyes were drawn to the swelling near his left eye and the bruise that was darkening there. "Fara! What in Varda's name happened to you?"

"It is naught," he said as I reached forward and turned his head so I might better see this new injury of his.

"Who did this?" I asked.

"It is unimportant," he said, gently pushing my hands away. "What _is_ important is that Éowyn has chosen to blame me for what has happened."

"What!? That is ridiculous!"

"Quiet! You shall awaken Uncle," he whispered before replying, "I know, but she is unreasonable right now. She has banished me from her room."

I frowned in consternation. "Why would she do such a thing?"

"As I said, she is being unreasonable. Her grief is overwhelming her, but she will not let me near her. And I thought her brother might physically force me from the room."

"Éomer! Was it he who did this to your poor face, Fara?"

He said, "I told you that it is naught." But it was too late; I was wroth. I stood abruptly.

"Where is he?"

"I left him in the garden, but Thíri. . . ." I did not hear any words past that for I was on my way to the garden to deal with Éomer.

When I burst through the doorway, he was sitting upon the bench that I had first nervously perched upon when I had asked him if he would like to go riding with me. He looked up at me, hope blooming in his features when he saw that it was I. I noticed that it appeared that Faramir had evened the score a bit by leaving a similar bruised swelling upon the King of Rohan's face, but it did little to quell my anger.

"How dare you!?" I shouted at him, and the hope upon his face died to be replaced with resolved weariness.

"Why are you yelling at me, my lady? He struck me first."

I must admit that his words shocked me, but I did not back down. "You should not have hit him, Lord Èomer!"

"He struck me first," he repeated in the same tone of voice, but then his words quieted as he looked away from me. "She means for him to leave her."

"What?"

"She means for him to leave her alone because she cannot find anyone else but herself to blame for what has happened. She is accusing him falsely for the loss of their babe, and I fear for what it shall do to them both."

I sat heavily upon the opposite end of the bench, my anger toward him almost forgotten. "How can this be happening? I know of no two other people save perhaps Aragorn and Arwen who are more in love than Fara and Éowyn. Is there nothing that can be done?"

He shook his head slowly. "Your cousin has forbidden me to interfere, and the Queen of Gondor has set me as Éowyn's protector. If she was not so ill, I would wait until Faramir was off somewhere, turn her over my knee, and give her a good spanking."

I was shocked. "Lord Éomer, how can you say such a thing?"

He glanced at me with a rueful expression. "It would not be the first time, Lady Lothíriel."

I frowned at him. "You are a bully," I said, and he had the audacity to look wounded. I stood, gaining courage from his expression. "I should have paid heed to my first instincts about you, Lord Éomer." Before he could reply to my comment, I had whirled away from him and departed the garden.

* * *

Faramir

Without knocking, I crept back into Éowyn's sickroom a little after dawn. The queen was yet awake, her Elven constitution allowing her to function with little sleep, and she smiled softly at me as I came to sit in the chair next to hers.

"Faramir," she murmured in greeting.

"Has she said aught else?"

"Nay, she has only slept since you and Lord Èomer departed." She took note of my new bruise. "I see that you and he had further words."

"They were quite succinct, I assure you, my lady."

She nodded, and we both turned our attention back toward Éowyn.

"She is a stubborn woman, Faramir. Think you that you might change her mind when she again awakens?"

"I shall try my best."

"If you do not, remember that she shall eventually come to her senses."

I nodded, unwilling to consider that she might send me from her yet again. The queen and I sat in companionable silence for at least an hour before my wife finally stirred, and Arwen went to her, offering her some water. She sipped at it for a moment before she noticed me.

"What is he doing here again?" she asked the queen, and Arwen tried to explain to her that I was worried about her health and had only wished to make certain that she was comfortable. "I want him out of this room," she groaned, and my heart sank. I had to try.

I stood. "My lady, please, would you not allow me to speak once more with you?"

"I do not wish to speak with you, my lord."

I quickly formed a plan, hoping that I might force her to reconsider her perspective. "You would not speak with me even to say goodbye?" Arwen glanced to me once and then quietly excused herself, silently departing the room.

"Goodbye?" queried Éowyn with an indifference that I prayed was feigned.

"Aye, Éowyn. You said that you wished me from your presence, and I do not wish to upset you further with my close proximity, so I have decided that I should leave the city until you are feeling better."

"You will depart Minas Tirith?"

"For you, yes."

She hesitated before speaking again. "And where will you go?"

"I know not yet, my lady." I shrugged. "Away from here. I shall send word to you as soon as I am settled."

"When do you depart?"

"I need to make arrangements for an escort, but as soon as that is finished, I shall go."

She looked at me almost blankly for a few moments before she said, "It is well that you do this thing, my lord."

I tried not to show how sad her words made me as I nodded, swallowing my emotion. "I do it only to please you, Éowyn, as it has always been, though I hope that you would not keep me away for very long, for a man cannot live for long without his heart."

She seemed about to say something before she changed her mind and instead said, "I wish you a safe journey, Lord Faramir."

Her formality crushed my soul. I bowed deeply before her. "Thank you. I wish you a rapid and complete recovery, my lady."

She turned her face away from me again, and I decided that was her dismissal of me, and so I departed her room, passing Arwen in the corridor. She spoke, I think, but I did not pause as I sought solitude, suddenly feeling unable to bear anyone's company.

* * *

Arwen

"What have you done?" I asked Éowyn as I reentered the room after passing a very distraught Faramir in the hallway, and she turned her head to glare at me.

"I can no longer bear the look in his eyes," she said tonelessly.

"But he looks at you only with love, Éowyn."

"He looks at me with pity, but worst of all, he thinks that the loss of _his_ son is my fault."

"Did he say that?"

"He does not need to. I can see it."

"In spite of what you think that you read within his eyes, you are mistaken. Faramir is not like that, and he feels every bit as much worry over your well-being as he does pain over the loss of _your_ son as you do. Besides, this was no one's fault. These things happen."

It was as if I had not spoken. "If I had not been required to go chasing halfway to Harad after him, perhaps this might not have happened. He should have stayed at home where he belongs instead of running off, trying to prove that he remains a Ranger of Ithilien. If he had, I should not have had to run to him when he nearly died."

I barely held my anger at her injustice in check. "Hear your own words! Only a few weeks ago, he lay closer to death than ever he has, and I know that you would have killed any who stood in your way so you might reach his side regardless of the reason behind his condition. Your conjecture about what might have happened holds no purpose, my lady. And your actions serve to alienate the one man who would never hurt you purposely, for I believe that he is incapable of it. Do you not know that your pain is his as well? Do you not realize how helplessly he holds himself before you, Éowyn? After what his father did to him, it is simply amazing that he is capable of baring his soul to anyone, showing his vulnerabilities to you, trusting you not to harm him. You alone in this world hold the power to crush him with a single word, much as Lord Denethor used to do to him. And because your pain blinds you to all else but yourself, you have hurt him more certainly than had he been a lonely flower in a field that you carelessly trod upon in your haste to accuse."

"How dare you?" she hissed at me. "Do not compare me to that monster that was his father, for I have done naught but love Faramir until now! You know not how I hurt inside! You know not what I feel! It would be well if you were gone from my presence as well!"

"Well for whom? You hold no power over me, Lady Éowyn. I am the Queen of Gondor, and though you can injure the Steward of Gondor with a word or a look, I am not so easily affected by your fits of mood. And though you are being intolerable for the nonce, I am your friend, and I will not so easily abandon you. Now, sleep." Before she could argue further, I set my fingers upon her brow and sent her into oblivion, hoping that she would awaken with more sense in her head than she seemed to have right now.


	9. Chapter 9

Thank you all for being so patient with me. I hope to be updating a little more regularly now that the horror that was this summer is officially over. Thanks also to Rosie26, who betas for me, but also encourages and inspires me to write the best that I can.

* * *

Faramir

_What have I done?_

I had been utterly defeated as my wife had demanded me away from her. I had thought that she would wish me with her, providing comfort during the most difficult time that we had yet faced as a married couple. But I had not expected her indifferent reaction as I had informed her that I would be departing the White City.

I could not fathom what it was that I had done to merit such careless handling of a sudden. It was not as if I had not grown accustomed to coldness over the years, but never should I have expected it from Éowyn, the one person who had always treated me with respect and love. Suddenly I was adrift in unknown waters, alone.

"She just needs time to come to terms with what has happened, dear boy. You cannot expect her to behave normally under such circumstances," I heard my uncle say, but he had not been there, had not seen the finality in her steely gaze before she had turned her face from me. And despite how wrong it felt to me, I had obeyed her, unable to do aught else, unwilling to hurt her further in her weakened and vulnerable state.

"Will you travel with me, Uncle? Or shall I go alone?" I asked him.

"Can you not just stay out of her sight for a few days, Fara?"

"Nay, I must go. I told her that I would, and though I continually fail her, I will not lie to her."

"Faramir." His voice held more than a hint of exasperation. "Where will you go?" he finally asked, seeing that I was steadfast.

"I shall seek solace with the king. Hopefully he will allow me to aid him at the River Poros."

My uncle's eyes widened for a moment. "I think there is little solace to be had at the River Poros, lad. Are you certain that is the best solution?"

I nodded. "I cannot go to Emyn Arnen alone. I have nowhere else to go."

"Might it help if I spoke to your lady wife?"

I sighed heavily. "I doubt it, but you are welcome to try, Uncle."

"Then I shall try to show her the error of her ways."

I nodded but held little hope that even Uncle could turn the tide of Éowyn's stubbornness.

* * *

Éowyn

I was surprised to see Uncle Imrahil when next I opened my eyes. He was smiling, but his grey eyes held something else within them, and I feared that he was here to berate me for what had happened between my husband and me. Instead, he pulled a small nosegay of violets from behind his back and offered it to me with a flourish. Carefully, I pushed myself up in bed, and, smiling at him, took his beautiful offering.

"I did not expect to see you, Uncle."

He looked pained. "Why ever not? I feel remiss that I did not come sooner, Éowyn," he said as he sank down into the bedside chair. "How are you feeling, my dear?"

I shrugged. "I am well enough, though I remain desperately weary, but Arwen tells me that it shall pass with time."

He nodded, and looked uncomfortable. "I know not how to express the sorrow I felt when I heard about your son, my girl."

I simply nodded, unable to speak about that for now. I could tell now that indeed he wished to speak about Faramir but did not know how to broach the subject with me. I did it for him.

"How is Faramir?"

A spark lit his eyes as he realized that his conversation might proceed more easily now. "He is unwell, I fear, my girl. He is neglecting his health again, as he was oft wont to do before he met you."

I made no comment, though I thought much upon his words as I stared at the flowers that I yet held in my hands.

"He departs for the River Poros tomorrow at dawn, and I am going with him."

I am certain that my quick look betrayed my surprise and concern to him. "Poros? I thought that he would never return there."

"As did I, but he feels that since you do not need him, he would go and aid his king, giving himself over to Gondor once again."

I nodded. "Part of me expected this from him, though I am uncertain that he is ready to go so far afield again." I looked intently at him. "Will you watch over him?"

"It is the only reason that I will accompany him, my dear. Though I am a poor substitute for his wife, I shall do my best in your stead." He paused and then plunged ahead. "I wish that you would reconsider your decision, Éowyn."

"It was not I who decided that he should go to the River Poros. In truth, I thought only to drive him to return to Emyn Arnen without me."

"He says that he cannot bear to go there without you." He looked down at the floor before he again gazed upon me. "Both of you are so stubborn! Why would you wish him away from you at all? Can you not call him back to you before he departs?"

"I cannot bear the look in his eyes, Uncle. To think that he blames me for the loss of the heir to the Stewardship of Gondor is something that I need time to adjust to."

"But that is the heart of the problem, my dear. He does not blame you. He loves you, and he wishes for the opportunity to comfort you in your time of grief, just as he is grieving and wishes for comfort from you."

My long silence must have signaled to him the end of my willingness to listen to his words, and he stood.

"Please consider what I have said, dear girl. He needs you, Éowyn, and you need him, too, though you may not think so. It should be much easier to reconsider before he has departed."

I nodded again, and as he turned to go, I looked at his retreating back with tears in my eyes. "Goodbye, Uncle," I whispered, and he paused a moment but did not look back at me before he exited the room.

* * *

Faramir

I was awake long before dawn. In truth, I am uncertain that I slept at all that night. At every slight noise, I thought that someone might be coming to me with a message from Éowyn, but the morning arrived with no word, and I removed the splints and sling from my left arm, hoping that it was healed enough to endure this treatment before I dressed slowly in my ranger garb, glad to have something familiar to do. Then I retrieved my pack, and went downstairs. I strode into the corridor that led to her room, intending to enter and tell her how stupid I had been, but something stopped me outside of her door. Instead of entering, I pressed my hand against the cold wood and prayed for her quick recovery and for her word to come to me with all haste. Briefly I wondered if she was sleeping within as I did wish to look upon her face once more before I departed the city, but I did not wish to disturb her either way.

With a quiet sigh, I left my residence and went directly to the stables, finding my rangers and my uncle all ready to go. Again they had saddled Simbelmynë for me, and I mounted him straightaway, briefly nodding to Mablung and Damrod, who both looked extremely uncomfortable as they gazed upon me. I was somewhat heartened to see Madach was among those who were riding with me, as I was hoping to be able to convince him to return to his home in South Gondor.

Before I could call the order to ride, the Queen of Gondor entered the stable with Thíri behind her. I bowed from horseback, as did we all, and bid her a good morning. She returned the greeting and then asked if we might speak in private. I agreed and dismounted, and she drew me into an empty stall some distance away.

"Faramir, it grieves me that you depart from us on such uncertain terms. Will you not reconsider your actions?"

"I cannot, my lady. If Éowyn will not have me, then I have no choice but to give myself to Gondor's well-being, for I cannot remain idle at such a time."

She nodded, and her eyes lit upon my left arm that was already beginning to ache. "As soon as you reach Estel, he will berate you for neglecting yourself."

"I expect that, yes."

Arwen handed me a small bag containing a dried herb that had a scent unfamiliar to me. "Make a tea with this for the next three days, and I deem that your arm shall give you little pain after that, Faramir."

"Thank you, my lady."

"Remember that you yet have friends in the White City, and we shall all worry about you until you are safely returned. And please, Faramir, when you do return, come back whole and unharmed." She smiled, and it caught me off guard as it seemed as if I had not seen a friendly face not creased with worry in an age. Without thinking, I hugged her, and she returned the gesture with equal zeal.

When I released her, I said, "It is reassuring to know that there is someone watching for my return."

"She shall worry about you in your absence as well, and I shall do all that I can to convince her that you should be called home quickly."

I nodded, and then we departed the stall. I saw Thíri had coaxed Uncle from his horse and was now hugging him tightly and wishing him a safe journey. When she released him, she turned to me and hugged me tightly as well, though she offered no words because she was crying. I kissed her brow and then remounted Simbelmynë.

Finding Arwen's eyes again, I said, "Please, watch over Éowyn for me."

"I shall. Give my love to Estel."

"I shall." With one final look at her and Thíri, I gave the order to depart, and the horses moved forth, carrying us toward the Great Gate and then southward. I hoped to be recalled home as soon as possible.

* * *

Éomer

I awakened late that morning, for I finally could sleep, knowing that Éowyn was out of physical danger, and so I took advantage of it. There was no one in the dining hall to break my fast with, but I enjoyed my eggs and venison anyway, eating every bite. As I was rising to go see my sister, Lothíriel wandered into the room, obviously on her way to the kitchen, but she cautiously bid me a good morning, and I returned the sentiment with a cool nod.

"My lady, how fare you?" I asked, noting the dull look in her eye.

"I am tired, and I am saddened to be parted from Daddy."

I was confused by her words. "Where is your father?"

"Faramir departed this morning for the River Poros, and Daddy went with him. I shall miss them both terribly, and I am considering taking a ship back to Dol Amroth as soon as Éowyn is fully well."

"Faramir did _what_?" My tone seemed to surprise her.

"He departed for the River Poros at dawn with my father and a company of rangers," Lothíriel repeated as if she were speaking with a stupid child.

"Why did he do that?"

"Because Éowyn bade him go."

I felt my ire quickly rising. "Surely she did not tell him to leave the city!"

"I do not know the details, but I do know that Daddy said Éowyn told Fara to stay away from her. Fara is a man of action, Lord Éomer. He is unable to sit idly for long. And I think that if Éowyn were to bid him to jump from the edge of the seventh circle, he would do it if he thought that it would please her."

"Then he is a fool, Lady Lothíriel, for anyone who is sane should realize that Éowyn never intended for him to depart the city! What a daft, pigheaded fool he is!" I roared.

"How dare you speak of him that way?"

I could not dally with her any longer, for I had to find Faramir and haul him back to Minas Tirith. I had seen his poor condition and knew that he was unprepared for a long journey by horseback into an unknown and likely dangerous situation. She continued to call out after me as I hurried from the steward's residence without even taking the time to bid Éowyn farewell, for I knew that the sooner I was atop my horse, the sooner I could find Faramir.

I turned once and shouted back to her, "I have no time to chat, my lady. You have my permission to be as angry as you wish for the way I speak of your idiotic cousin, but I am going to chase him down and fetch him home, even if it kills us both!"

When last I saw Lothíriel, she was standing on the stairs, hands on hips, eyes flashing, and I was regretting the fact that I had to leave her behind for this particular ride.

* * *

Lothíriel

"Éowyn!" I cried as I burst into her sickroom without knocking. "Your brother is so maddening!"

Though it was obvious that she had not been sleeping, she looked weary, and I noticed that she had been crying. "What has he done now?" she asked, obviously expecting me to tell her of some petty problem between the King of Rohan and me.

"He is going right now to saddle his horse and chase after Fara! I am afraid what your brother might do when he finds your husband."

"What?" She seemed genuinely concerned though perhaps a little confused. She murmured to herself, "Faramir really did leave. I did not think that he could go so easily." Sighing, she threw back the covers and swung her legs out of the bed, pausing to catch her breath after even that small effort.

"Éowyn, what are you doing?" I asked her.

"I must go after them. I fear that Éomer might do something rash, and that is not right since it is I who began this trouble." She pushed herself onto her feet, and might have collapsed onto the floor had I not pushed her back down.

"Éowyn! You are in no condition to ride!" I said.

"Send someone after him, Lothíriel," she said weakly. "Find Éomer before he departs Minas Tirith, and tell him that I require his presence here immediately."

I nodded and ran from her room, hoping that I might find him in time. But when I arrived at the stables, I found Firefoot's stall empty and all of those of the king's riders' mounts as well. Without thinking, I hailed a passing stableboy, asking him to saddle Roäc, and without another word I was rushing down to the fourth circle, taking only enough time to grab a few articles of clothing and my small bag of coins before I was again on horseback and rushing from the entrance of the city at a heart pounding pace.

* * *

Faramir

My group and I had not been upon the road but for a few hours when my uncle finally grew tired of my silence and fell back among the rangers to strike up a conversation with them. I was relieved to be alone at last, able to brood without being pestered. But, of course, almost instantly Mablung and Damrod drew their mounts up beside mine, and we rode together for a while in silence before Damrod finally asked, "How fare you, Captain?"

"Aye. Is there aught that you need?" added Mablung.

"There is much that I need, but naught that you can give to me, though I thank you for your concern," I replied quietly and steadily.

"Is Lady Éowyn well?" asked Damrod, and I was surprised to find that their questions were causing more anxiety for me rather than providing succor as they were intended to do.

"Men, I would not speak of her right now, if you please. We have a long journey before us, and I need my wits about me, so please, fall back into line, and I shall speak with you later." They both murmured their assent though I knew that I had surprised them with my reluctance to speak with them, for I had only seen them once since I had returned to Minas Tirith and their sympathy was apparent. But I could not bear their curiosity nor their concern, and I truly wished to save thinking about Éowyn for the darkness of the nights when I was truly alone.

It was not much longer before Madach drew his mount up beside mine, and we rode side by side in silence for a long while. Eventually he spoke in his particular manner that came from having no true discipline enforced upon him as he grew up. "Why did you leave the city?"

"Because I needed to."

"Are you yet ill?"

"No, I am not ill. I am quite recovered from my injuries."

"But you look ill."

I glared at him. "Thank you very much for pointing that out to me."

He shrugged. I was already regretting allowing him to come to Minas Tirith with us, and now I was resenting the fact that he needed to be returned home, and it fell to me to see that he was.

"Is not your wife ill, too?"

"Yes, Madach," I snapped. "She is ill! But she will not allow me near her!"

"But you are bigger than she is."

A boy's logic is often flawed through oversimplification. "You shall learn someday that just because you might be bigger than someone, it does not mean that you should force them to do something that they wish not to do."

"What did you do to her?"

His question was maddening since I had been asking myself the same thing. Before I could form a suitable reply, Mablung spoke up from behind us. "Mad, come here! You are bothering the captain."

The boy turned and looked quizzically at my ranger and then looked to me again. "I was just wondering. I do not mean to bother you, sir." It was the most respect that he had ever shown to me.

"I know oft it is difficult to curb one's tongue when one is young and undisciplined," I murmured without looking at him.

"I just never had anyone who would listen before," he said innocently, and I felt guilt because none of this was his fault, and though he was indeed young and undisciplined, I owed my life to this boy.

"Mad!" bellowed Mablung, and Madach sighed and slowed his horse, leaving me alone at the head of the column once again.

When we finally camped late that evening, I kept to myself, and the others seemed obliged to allow me to do that, and I was relieved that I would not have to make any conversation. But eventually, as the night grew more quiet, Madach made his way to my side and sat down silently next to me much as he had done before when I had been poisoned and had expected to die. Though I awaited the boy to speak, he seemed content to remain silent as he wordlessly offered me some water and a piece of bread. I refused both and wished silently that he would go back to the rest of the rangers, but when all of the others had settled down for the night, he remained with me, and he did not lie down until I finally did.

"I am sorry," he murmured in the darkness, and I did not answer him for I did not want to betray my tears to him. But there was something very reassuring about his mere presence, and I was reminded that I was not truly alone, no matter how desolate I felt.

* * *

Lothíriel

I rode Roäc as quickly as I dared along the road toward the south, hoping to catch sight of the King of Rohan's party as soon as possible. I cursed Lord Éomer silently most of the time, vowing to murder him when I finally found him.

After some time had passed, and the sun fell low in the sky, I realized that I had committed a serious error. I was alone outside of the city, unguarded, unaccompanied, and there was nowhere suitable for me to sleep within five leagues of my present location. I also rued the fact that I had not worn appropriate riding attire, as I had not planned on being ahorse that day at all.

It was with more than a little trepidation that I pulled Roäc into the foliage next to the road and unsaddled him before I gave him his freedom so he might graze while I attempted to get some rest, knowing there would be a terrible price to pay for my impetuous foolishness. But before I finally drifted into restless sleep, I managed to twist the angry thoughts in my head to make even this seem like Lord Éomer's fault.


	10. Chapter 10

Aragorn

"_Whom_ did you say was here?"

"The Steward of Gondor, my king," patiently answered the guard. I thought that surely this man was mistaken.

"Please, show him in then," I said, wondering whom it really was that had requested an audience with me. My dubiousness was banished however when Faramir, dressed in his full ranger garb, strode into my tent and bowed formally before me. I could not hold myself from gasping aloud at his appearance, which was dreadful. He looked little better than he had when he had left here almost three weeks ago. He was not well. His face was gaunt and colorless; his hands were shaky. "Faramir, what has happened?"

"I am no longer required in Minas Tirith, and so I thought to make myself useful by giving my aid to my king if he will yet have me."

The bitterness couched in his words was dumbfounding, but I nodded. "Of course. I shall always welcome your help when it is freely given, Faramir. Please, have a seat," I told him as I indicated an empty camp chair. He sank into it with what sounded like a grateful sigh. "Can I have something brought for you, some tea perhaps?"

He shook his head. "Nay, King Elessar. I am well enough for now. When would you prefer that I start my work, my king?"

I knew that something was terribly wrong, for my steward always seeks the safety of formality when he is deeply troubled by anything, probably a direct result of his father's starkly cold attitude toward him. "Faramir, has a mere month caused you to forget that I prefer that you call me Aragorn when we are in private? Please, be at ease, my friend." His face colored a bit at that, but he said naught else, and I was left to guess what might have happened to bring him here once again. "How fares Éowyn?"

That question revealed much about the source of his unhappiness before he ever answered it. I wondered at his pained expression as he said, "She is. . . . My . . . Aragorn." His gaze faltered, and he looked to the floor of the pavilion as if searching his mind for something that he had misplaced. His voice, when he spoke again, was a mere whisper. "The babe was lost."

I was stricken by this news. Taking a step forward, I laid my hand gently upon his shoulder. "I am so sorry, Faramir. And Éowyn?" I feared that he should tell me the worst news of all about her as well.

"She is weak and distraught," he said, the words quavering with emotion that he obviously did not wish to express before me.

"Faramir, what are you doing here?" I asked gently, pulling another chair closer to him so that I might face him as we conversed. As I sat, I asked him, "Why did you not remain with your wife during such a trying time?"

"I. . . I cannot," he murmured before sinking into silence for a moment. Finally his eyes met mine again, and I almost had to look away, so raw were the emotions there. "She told me to go from her and not to return until she called for me." I was surprised by this, but before I could form another question, he added, "I would not speak of it further, not even with you, Aragorn."

I was concerned by his behavior, but I did not want to make him more uncomfortable by pressing him for information, so I turned my attention to his troubling condition. It was apparent that the strain of the loss of his unborn son and this unwanted separation from Èowyn were causing him to suffer in body as well as in mind. "It is plain that you have been neglecting your health, my friend," I said in a gentle tone, and he winced. Without consulting him first, I summoned a guard into the pavilion and asked him to bring some light refreshments for my steward.

"I find that I do not have much appetite of late," he admitted after the guard departed.

"Have you been sleeping?"

"Not well."

"Then as soon as you have partaken of an adequate amount of food, I shall provide you with the means to wash off the road dust, and then you shall go straight to my bed and remain there until I decide that you have rested for a sufficient length of time. After that I will examine you to make certain that you have done no further damage to yourself since last I saw you."

"Yes, my lord," he said, sounding like a young boy who had been scolded for a minor offense. "I did not come here to add to your burdens, Aragorn."

"Never have you been a burden, and never shall you be. This evening allow me to tend to you. It is the very least that I can do for you, Faramir, after all that you have done for me."

He shrugged a little, as if deciding that perhaps he needed some tending. "Thank you, Aragorn."

When the tray of food arrived, he helped himself to a bit of cold chicken while I brewed him a strong pot of tea, adding a blend of dried herbs that would force him to sleep. After I poured a cup for him, I added a liberal amount of honey to cover the taste of my special concoction while he was yet preoccupied with his own troubles. After setting the cup at his hand, I turned and resumed poring over a map of the area, hoping to figure out what the Haradrim were preparing to do. We had seen very few Southron patrols in the last week, and no other farmsteads had been destroyed to our knowledge. But it troubled me greatly that I could not decipher their actions.

It was not long before the Steward of Gondor was standing near me, staring over my shoulder at the map. "What news?" he asked quietly as he sipped his tea, and I pointed to where the last of the Haradrim patrols had been sighted almost three days ago.

"I know not what they are doing, but I fear that they are massing their forces somewhere for an attack against us."

Faramir nodded. "That is the logical assumption. Do you think that they will come at us straight across the Fords of Poros?"

"It is what they would look for us to think."

He offered his opinion to me. "Were it my force, I should swim my men across the river in the dark, upstream from this site, and attack from the East or even perhaps circle them through the forest behind us and take control of the Harad Road in Ithilien."

"I have anticipated that move and have kept a few extra scouts along the riverbank and also along the road to warn us of impending danger. But they have seen naught in the weeks that they have been camping there."

"And west of here?"

"Downstream? Faramir, you have experienced firsthand the power of the River Poros west of here. I know not how they could possibly cross there without sturdy boats of some sort."

He nodded. "But what of their oliphaunts? Perhaps the crossing would be nothing for those huge beasts."

"Perhaps. And yet, they could only carry the men across perhaps ten or twenty at a time in that manner. Quite time-consuming I should think."

"Time-consuming indeed, but feasible nonetheless."

I called my guard inside once more and bade him to send for Colonel Vëantor immediately. "It is well that you are here, Faramir, though I would have wished for your arrival to be under better circumstances."

Faramir nodded and returned to his meal, and though I feigned continuing to study the map, I watched him, and hoped that he would be all right until Éowyn summoned him home again. Vëantor arrived quickly and greeted Faramir with a smile and clasped his arm in a warriors' handshake before he turned his attention upon me. I quickly explained what we assumed was the Southrons' plan to cross the river, and the colonel assured me that he would go forth with a small force to be certain that it did not occur. I gave him my blessing, and he hurriedly departed.

Faramir had barely eaten a quarter of what was upon the tray when he at last quietly informed me that he could eat no more. "Very well, then." I moved the tray out of the way and replaced it with a wash basin filled with clean water and a soft cloth. "I shall leave you now so that you might enjoy some privacy while you bathe and then sleep. But I shall return soon to assure that you are obeying your king."

He smiled wanly and nodded his acquiescence. As I reached the doorway, he spoke my name, and I turned back to him.

"Thank you. I cannot tell you how much your friendship has meant to me during these past months."

I nodded in reply and stepped out of the tent, remaining near the entrance as I listened to the soft splashing of water. He was soon finished washing I deemed as it grew very quiet, and quietly I reentered the pavilion and found him lying atop the furs upon my mattress, stripped down to shirt and breeches, his boots discarded beneath the camp bed. He was already deeply asleep, and I hoped that he would not suspect that I had drugged him when he awoke. It was disconcerting how quickly his life had fallen apart, leaving him desolate, and it eased my heart somewhat to see him at peace even for a short time.

I drew nearer and leaned down to examine him, most especially his arm. But it seemed fine, and it had healed straight and was not atrophied in the least. I rested my hand for just a moment upon his brow, as if I could impart some of my strength to him that way before I turned and went back to my maps, watching over my steward at the same time as I contemplated the unknown actions of the Southrons.

* * *

Éomer

Pelargir was truly the foulest city that I had ever had the misfortune of riding into. Not only were the citizens unfriendly as they hurried about their business, but the streets were covered with filth as we entered through the northernmost gate, and it was difficult to keep my face impassive when the foul stench of human excrement assaulted my nostrils.

"We should have bypassed this place, Éomer-King," said Fram, captain of my guard and my personal bodyguard as he rode beside me through the narrow streets.

I nodded. "I was mistaken to think that Lord Faramir might have come here. I am almost certain that he has ridden directly to the River Poros despite his poor physical condition." I knew if Faramir had continued on to Poros, he would very shortly be under Aragorn's care. I felt that there was no reason to trail after the errant steward any longer, though I did plan on making certain that he knew my mind with regards to his decision to abandon Éowyn, his fistfighting capabilities be damned.

"Shall we turn about and return to the road, my lord?"

"Nay, Fram. We shall ride through so that we might better appreciate Minas Tirith when we return there. Besides, I am thirsty. Perhaps we can find a respectable tavern somewhere in this vile place."

Fram did not look convinced as he rode ahead, my men encircling me as we moved through the streets, past row after row of small ramshackle wooden buildings that looked as if they had been hastily built and should likely fall down even more rapidly, given the right conditions. Most of the people that we passed stared at us with unrestrained hostility upon their faces as they caught sight of our shining armor, tantalizing in the midst of this hopeless poverty. I noted that my guards rode with their gloved hands resting upon their weapons, glancing about nervously at the crush of human detritus that was getting thicker as we entered a section of the city filled with nothing more than badly-maintained brothels.

I called a halt and asked one of the more respectable looking women that we came upon if she could point us toward a suitable place to have a drink. But she would not direct me unless I paid her, an action that I would not have any see, lest people think ill of the King of the Mark. So my riders and I continued in the direction we had been riding until we reached a canal where the road widened out a great deal, though the endless throng of people did not thin at all.

Fram halted us this time and pointed toward the opposite side of the canal where there was a walled section of the city with a tall black tower jutting from the center of it. It appeared to be where the more wealthy merchants and officials of Pelargir lived and worked. "I think were we to gain access to that side of the wall, we might find somewhere acceptable to have a drink, Éomer-King."

I nodded in agreement. "Lead the way, Fram."

And so my small band finally found a stone bridge that crossed the canal, and we passed onto it. I realized that finally we had left the questionable citizenry behind us as we approached a checkpoint. The guards there halted us, and I came to the fore of our group as one of them curtly asked us to state our business in Gobel Eärnil. I assumed correctly that he meant the part of the city held within the wall.

Without fanfare, Fram announced my name and title, and the guards seemed not at all impressed by me.

"Your business?"

"I wish to have a drink with my men in a tavern where I do not have to wonder if I should be robbed at knife point."

They laughed at me. "You are in the wrong city then, my lord. Is Lord Holmar expecting you?"

"Nay. _I_ was not expecting to be here." I knew Lord Holmar to be the Lord Steward of Pelargir, and I might have seen him in Minas Tirith at some of the larger annual council meetings, but I would not know him on sight. The guard to whom I was speaking sent one of the others to announce the arrival of the King of Rohan and to have arrangements made for my stay in the steward's palace in the quarter of the city called Neldëlendin. "I am not staying here," I said. "I wish only to have a tankard of ale with my men and then continue on my way."

"Sir," said the guard, "you, as the King of Rohan, cannot simply come into Pelargir for a drink. If the Lord Steward were to find out that you had been here, and I did not inform him of your visit, he would have my head on a pike atop the Barad Aerhir." He gestured toward the tall tower in the center of the city.

I sighed but nodded, unwilling to strain relations between Rohan and Pelargir even for my own comfort, though I was not happy with the arrangement. An escort of two mounted guards was quickly arranged for us, and we followed them at a walk around the inside edge of the high stone wall past all manner of buildings, all built of marble and granite, most of which seemed to be for some official use. Eventually we came to a section filled with well-kept barracks, and our escorts informed us that my riders and I should have to part ways here, for apparently no other guards were allowed into Neldëlendin but the steward's own.

I was outraged, as was Fram, but the Pelargirian guards insisted that I should come to no harm despite being separated from my men, and for the sake of relations between our countries, I allowed it, marking well the specific building where my men were to be housed, so I could easily find them later if they were needed.

As I continued down the cobbled streets alone with my two escorts, we passed many varied businesses including several taverns that appeared to be perfectly acceptable to me, and I said so, but apparently my thirst was to be ignored until I had first met with the steward. Soon we crossed over a high bridge that passed above the water, and I was able to take a long look at the harbor that lay in the middle of the walled sections of the city, a circle of water inside a large triangle of land. The harbor was filled with many ships, most of which appeared to belong to the Gondorian Navy, though there were also some that bore the marks of Lebennin and a few of Dol Amroth. Interspersed were smaller trade vessels, and I was surprised to see that more than a few of them bore the marks of Umbar and even Harad.

After we passed over the water, we entered what I assumed was Neldëlendin which was lush and green, filled with open lawns and orchards of blooming trees, behind which stood many large residences of the nobility. As the road slowly curved, I finally caught sight of the stately palace called Abad-en-Arahir that was home to Lord Holmar, Steward of Pelargir and provincial Steward of Lebennin, and I winced to think how long it might take just to find the man in that enormous marble monstrosity.

But the guards were efficient, and as we dismounted before the palace, I was ushered inside, and I considered the enormity of this residence, wondering why this man was living like a king, for surely this place was larger and grander even than the Citadel in Minas Tirith. I was led through the cavernous entryway and into a spacious antechamber where I was asked to sit in a comfortable upholstered chair while I waited for an audience with Lord Holmar. At least I was dressed for it, I thought, removing my helm as I sat.

_So much trouble for one drink._

I waited perhaps ten minutes before another door was opened by a page, and he ushered me into the steward's throne room. As the boy closed the door behind me and then went to stand along the wall, I called out in a friendly manner to the steward, slowly walking toward him. He sat at least fifty feet away from me and made no move to rise. Guards lined either side of the room, and though the surroundings were impressive, I was little impressed with this pompous show.

"Lord Holmar! Now that I have finally found you in this maze that you call a city, I wonder if you might like to join me and my men for an ale at one of your city's fine taverns!" I could plainly see the distaste cross his face even from this distance.

"Éomer-King of Rohan, what brings you to Pelargir, hmm?" he asked, his tone far from friendly.

As I finally reached him, I said, "Well, as I did not intend to see this much of your city, I must say that you, in truth, bring me to Pelargir. I was merely thirsty and wishing for some ale. I still am."

Lord Holmar snapped his fingers, and two dark-skinned serving girls appeared from somewhere behind him, bowing before the throne. "Bring Lord Éomer some ale and a chair!"

The chair was born forth immediately and placed behind me, and I sat in it. Before I was comfortable, there was a large mug of frothy ale being held out to me by one of the girls, and I took it, murmuring my thanks to her before turning my attention back to the steward, as I took a long swallow of the brew, finding the taste and consistency to be excellent. I told Holmar so.

"I thought that it might be to your liking as it is imported from your own country, Lord Éomer."

"Ah, a familiar taste from home. Thank you." I took another swallow. "Surely you would like some as well, Lord Holmar? Ale is always better when shared amongst friends."

"Indeed, but I am not thirsty at the moment, and besides, I do not feel that it is appropriate for me to drink when I am sitting upon the throne of Pelargir, my lord."

It was not lost upon me that the man had purposely left me sitting below him as he remained upon his chair high on the dais. I shrugged and drained the tankard, and it was immediately taken from my hand. "What Pelargir lacks in charm, it more than makes up for in its choice of ale!" I exclaimed with a broad smile.

He grimaced. "Again I ask you, what brings you to Pelargir, hmm?"

As it seemed that Holmar was more interested in information than exchanging pleasantries, I dropped my smile and spoke. "In truth I was following the Steward of Gondor as he made his way south from Minas Tirith."

"Are he and King Elessar still involved in that business at the River Poros? I was under the impression that the Steward of Gondor had gone missing."

"He had, but luckily he was found. Though his condition was grave, you should be happy to know that he is much recovered now."

"I had hoped that when he was found, I might have back my city guards that the King of Gondor unilaterally decided to take with him."

Lord Holmar was beginning to irritate me with his self-centeredness"But the situation there involved more than just Lord Faramir's disappearance. The Haradrim attacked a small band of Gondorian rangers there, killing many of them, and even after the king arrived with his army, there were many sightings of Southrons. In addition, several settlers in South Gondor have been massacred by the dogs."

He raised an eyebrow in seeming interest. "Indeed?"

"I would think that someone as powerful as you obviously are should already know this."

"No. I am much too busy with the operation of Pelargir and Lebennin to worry about what happens in South Gondor. The poor farmland there is not worth all of this trouble that Elessar takes."

"I do not think that it is the land that concerns the king so much as the people who live there, but I shall not speak further on it, as your city and province give you enough trouble by themselves."

"If I did not know of the Rohirrim penchant for plain-speaking, I would think that you were insulting me in my own hall," he said.

"Never would I do that, Lord Holmar," I smiled again, wishing to punch the man in his mouth. "Forgive me if it seems so. I am just surprised to find myself here in your palace, separated from my riders, when in truth I simply wished to stop for a drink with my men before I continued my journey to the River Poros."

"Lord Éomer, what would the citizenry say if they were to learn that the King of Rohan passed through Pelargir and their steward did not offer any hospitality to him? It is not done. Surely whatever King Elessar and his young steward are doing at the River Poros can be done without you for one more day, hmm?"

After a moment I realized that Faramir and I would both be better off not having to face each other on this night. Two days of riding had not dulled my feelings toward my brother-in-law's foolishness in the least. I acquiesced. "It matters not to me what the wagging tongues of your people say, but if it bothers you so much, then by all means, I would spend one night in your keeping. You do have a reputation to maintain after all."

"Indeed."

As I noted the predatory look upon the Steward of Pelargir's face, I wondered briefly if I might never again find my way to the outside of this strange city.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Thanks for bearing with me through this story. It's taking me much longer to post updates than I was hoping, so please hang in there with me!

* * *

Lothíriel 

It had been a longest ride to Pelargir, and I thought that since I was within sight of civilization, I would rent a room at an inn. I had been unable to change my clothing or bathe during the entire time, sleeping behind piles of brush for the most part, and I know that I looked a total fright as I finally caught sight of the granite walls that rose from the banks at the confluence of the Anduin and the Sirith. I had been to Pelargir several times before, but I always had arrived by ship and in the care of my father, who I was fairly certain would not be present on this particularly foolish occasion. It could be a dangerous city, I had been told more than once, most especially for an unaccompanied young woman, and not for the first time that day, I cursed my own foolishness. But I desperately needed a bath and a decent bed, and I knew that if I could manage to get through the poorer sections of town without being robbed, I would be guaranteed both of those things.

Urging Roäc forth, I passed through the gate, immediately aware of many leering eyes upon me. I tried not to meet anyone's gaze as I quickened my horse's pace, hoping to catch sight of the Cheraint Pharazön, the manmade moat that separated Guardstown, Blackhill, Waggon Hill and the Newport Quarters of town from the Guild Quarter and Lord's Town where I hoped to be safely resting before sunset. But the crowds of underprivileged, wretched people were moving very slowly, and though I witnessed others recklessly driving their horses through the throng without a care for any other, I could not bring myself to do the same. So it was long before I found my way to the wider street which ran the length of the Cheraint Pharazön, the moat that separated the older quarters of the city which surround the harbor, from the newer quarters. Relieved to be finally within sight of my destination, I rode halfway across the stone bridge that led directly into the Guild Quarter, only to be stopped by a guard.

"Where do you think you are going, miss?" he asked me.

"I wish to find a room at an inn in the Guild Quarter, sir."

"And who might you be?" I was unfamiliar with this interrogation of travelers to Pelargir and said so. "No one is allowed into the old city unless they are of noble parentage, by order of the Lord Steward of Pelargir himself," he explained in a bored tone.

"Well, sir," I began, drawing myself higher in the saddle, "it just happens that I am the Princess Lothíriel, daughter of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth."

"Yes, of course, you are," he said. "The dead leaves in your hair and the mud stains upon your torn gown alerted me to your noble birth the moment I saw you." I was surprised by his irreverent tone, especially when he said, "Let me tell you, Miss Lothíriel of Dol Amroth or whoever you think you are, no woman of proper breeding would be stupid enough to travel unaccompanied anywhere in this city. I am quite sure that you are no more than a common trollop who was lucky enough to find a discarded gown in the street somewhere. And as for your horse and tack, it is probably all stolen, and if you do not immediately return from whence you came, I shall have you very quickly arrested for thievery. Now, be gone!"

Never had anyone dared to say such horrible things to me, but I was too shocked by him to be angry. Dumbfounded, I turned Roäc around and moved back to Blackhill, now wondering what I might do for a place to sleep, short of returning to Minas Tirith, which would take another two and a half day ride. It was unthinkable that I might be forced to sleep along the road again.

I absently rode along the road through Blackhill. Had I been paying attention to my surroundings, I would have noticed that I had entered a new part of town where the streets were filled with many people who looked to be from Harad. Too late, I discovered that Roäc had taken me into Haradrim Town, a section of Pelargir that I had been warned about ever entering. Now I was surrounded by people who were speaking Haradraic almost exclusively, and I received the oddest looks from some of them as I am certain they were wondering why someone like me would ever come to this area.

Roäc stopped short, and I was faced with an older, blond man dressed in ranger green who looked as out of place here as I did. Before I could say anything to him, he asked me, "How much?"

"Excuse me? How much what?" I asked, uncertain of what he meant.

"How much coin for an hour with you?"

I gasped at his impudence. "How dare you?" I wailed at him, trying to move away, though he had taken a firm grip upon Roäc's bridle.

"If I give you a gold piece, could I have you for the whole night? I even have my own room."

I was outraged, and had I been in possession of a sizeable stick of wood, I would have brained him. "No, you disgusting man! Let me go!"

"Come now," he continued, growing frustrated with my refusal. "You probably make much less than that most nights! It is not as if I have the pox!"

"The lady said no." The deeply accented male voice that came from behind me was quiet but firm, and the man who had been propositioning me paled somewhat, murmured a quick apology and faded into the crowd more quickly than he had appeared. Turning to look at my rescuer, I found a very tall, muscular man with deeply tanned skin and oddly bright green eyes atop a fine-boned black horse that was the most elegant beast I had ever seen. The man was at least half a head taller than Fara and maybe as old as Daddy, and I murmured my thanks to him, wondering if I might be in even deeper trouble now.

"I hope you shall not judge all men by that one ignorant specimen, my lady."

"No, of course not, sir." He smiled at me then and bade me farewell. Just as he turned and was about to disappear back into the crowd, I called after him. "Excuse me, sir, but I wonder if you would tell me your name so I might thank you properly."

Turning his mount back toward me, his smile reappeared, though less broadly this time. "Some people call me the Desert Lord, and some refer to me by words that I would not speak to you. If you wish, you may call me Zaim Ghazi or just Zaim."

I nodded at him and said, "I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Zaim. My name is Lothíriel. Thank you for your aid. I fear that I am unfamiliar with this part of the city. In fact, I would go so far as to say that I am lost since the city guards would not allow me to enter the Guild Quarter where I have stayed so many times before."

"I am afraid that I cannot help you with that problem, my lady, as I, too, am not allowed there. But if you would allow it, I would be more than happy to share the hospitality of my rooms with you."

"Ah, Zaim, I would not impose upon you, though I thank you for your offer. Besides, I think that it would be most unseemly for me to be seen going to your home with you."

Gesturing about us, he said, "This, Lothíriel, is Haradrim Town, and all who live here know me very well. No one would think less of you were you to accompany me to my residence, for I am a married man and would immediately place you in the keeping of my Aisha when we arrive. She is of a like age with you, I think."

I saw no other remotely safe option open to me and so I nodded in agreement and allowed him to lead me to his residence. Amazingly, where I had been having so much trouble moving Roäc through the crowded streets, people seemed to part before Zaim on his delicately-boned horse. We had not gone far from where we had first met when he halted his beautiful mount and then helped me to dismount from Roäc's back. Immediately, two dark-skinned men dressed in red uniforms that looked almost military in their construction appeared and led the horses away even as four veiled women appeared at the doorway of the three-story building that looked as if it had seen better days. As Zaim approached them, they all knelt until he had passed into the house, and then they rose and followed him. I came behind them all and was completely awed by the interior of the dilapidated building.

Not even in the grandest rooms in Daddy's palace nor in any of the halls in Minas Tirith could have competed with the lush opulence that faced me now. Though the room in which we stood was not particularly large, it was furnished with a large gilded table surrounded by chairs decorated with cushions fashioned from ruby-colored silk brocade edged with a jeweled fringe. The walls were hung from ceiling to floor with beautiful woven tapestries of an intricate pattern, and the floor was covered by a thick carpet of a similar design that must have taken years to weave.

But I was most drawn to the fireplace. The gracefully arched mantle was fashioned from what appeared to be gold-tipped oliphaunt tusks, though they seemed much too short to have actually come from full-grown beasts. One of the veiled women approached the hearth and stirred a pot of something that smelled so good, I might have been able to eat the entire dish if I had been offered it. As it was, Zaim spoke in his own language to one of the women who lived there, and she nodded and took me by the hand, indicating that I should follow her.

"Aisha shall take you to wash up and find some clothing of her own for you to wear while yours is being laundered and repaired. When you have finished bathing, Lothíriel, we shall eat."

I nodded, a bit overwhelmed by all of this, and thanked him before following Aisha through an arched doorway draped with a beaded curtain that rattled as we passed through it. I found myself in what appeared to be a bedchamber, though the beds seemed to be little more than piles of pillows and blankets upon the carpeted floor.

The veiled woman opened a wardrobe and indicated that I should choose something for myself from the clothing there. Everything was lovely, made of a thin flowing silken material in various pastel shades, reminding me much of the Queen of Gondor's extensive wardrobe.

"I cannot choose from so many beautiful things, Aisha," I said to the woman, whose brown eyes sparkled at my obvious state of awe.

"Would you allow me to choose for you then?" she asked in perfect Westron, and I nodded in relief as she reached into the wardrobe, removing several different garments, all in a similar shade of rose before she bade me to follow her into the next room. This tiled room contained a huge sunken tub, such as I had never seen before.

She must have thought my expression amusing when she walked to the opposite side and pulled a small lever that opened a hole in the wall that brought steaming water directly to the tub. She giggled at me as she explained that the water was heated in the kitchen in a large tank, so that a hot bath was available at a moment's notice. When she finished filling the tub, she reached into a crystal bowl set upon a small stand and scattered a generous handful of dried rose petals upon the clear water and then stood by as I disrobed, aiding me when I could not reach a fastener or lace by myself. Then I stepped into the tub, and I sighed in bliss as I gratefully sank up to my neck in the warm, scented water.

"This day has ended much better than I could ever have dreamed," I said as I watched Aisha examine my gown. She looked as confounded by its design as I had felt looking at her clothing. "Your home is lovely," I said.

"Thank you, lady, but it is not my home. It belongs to Zaim Ghazi and his first wife, Hafsah."

"Then you do not live here?"

"Only by their grace and generosity do I remain here."

"Then you are a maid?" I was confused since she was dressed like the other women of the household.

I was surprised when she laughed again. "No, my lady. I am the master's fourth wife." She came nearer to the tub with some rose-scented soap and began to unbraid my untidy hair and wash it.

"His fourth wife?" I had heard tales that many of the wealthier Haradrim men married multiple wives, but four seemed an overwhelming number to me. But it was not for me to judge Aisha's culture, especially when Zaim had generously offered me such luxurious shelter without knowing if he might be repaid for his hospitality, so I remained silent and simply enjoyed the bath and Aisha's attentions until she suggested that I emerge so I could dress and then eat with the rest of the household.

As content as I was soaking in the warm water, I knew I would be happier when I had eaten something hot, since I had eaten little but apples and stale bread during my journey southward. So I stepped from the bath, allowing Aisha to wrap me in thick, absorbent towels before she showed me the proper way to don her clothing, which I was surprised to discover consisted of a pair of silken trousers topped by a matching long-sleeved shift before she unfolded a pile of cloth that she wrapped around me in a certain manner that made the ensemble appear to be a dress when it really was not. Though it was not uncomfortable at all, it was unfamiliar, and I felt very self-conscious wearing it, even when Aisha assured me that the garment was beautiful upon me. Lastly, she braided my hair, and then we returned to the main room where Zaim himself complimented my beauty and offered me a chair next to his at the table.

Aisha herself placed shallow bowls of fragrant stewed meat and grain before all of us along with a plate piled high with pieces of flatbread that my host demonstrated was the utensil used to bring the chunks of meat to one's mouth. It was delicious and I said so, bringing another smile to my host's face.

"I find most Gondorians do not care for the flavor of snake meat. I am happy that you are an exception."

I smiled at Zaim, not wanting to be rude by making a face at the mention of snakes, and asked him a question. "How long have you lived in Pelargir?"

"Only a year or so," he answered without elaborating.

"May I ask why you did not remain in your homeland?"

"Far Harad has become quite dangerous since the dissolution of its alliance with Rhûn and the Black Land. As there was little to keep me there since I left the Haradrim army, I brought my family north to begin a new life. Pelargir offers shelter to even the least of us, and it has been a good home for my family."

I nodded. Though I longed to know more about my host, I did not wish to be rude by prying further into his personal life, so I spoke little else that evening.

Almost immediately following our meal, Zaim retired to his chambers, and I found myself sharing a pile of pillows with Aisha in the women's bedchamber. As tired as I was, I did not mind it, and sank into a restful sleep almost as soon as I laid down.

* * *

Imrahil 

"Lord Aragorn, I hope this evening finds you well," I said, falling into step beside the king as he strode across the camp away from his pavilion.

"It does, Prince Imrahil," he replied without slowing. "Though I am pleased to see that you did not allow the Steward of Gondor to travel alone, I wonder why it is that you allowed him to travel at all?"

His anger was plain, but I replied calmly. "As I have told you before, he is a man grown, and he does as he pleases. It is not as if I did not try to steer him away from this foolish journey, but Éowyn was firm that she wished not to see him, and he told me that he felt it would be more productive for him to come here and at least work for the good of Gondor while he awaited her to recall him to her side."

"Faramir is not a disobedient dog to be banished when he has displeased his mistress!" he growled before he said, "Forgive me my anger, Imrahil, but your nephew's appearance is very distressing to me. I thought that by now he should be fully healed, strong and happy, and I find it difficult to fathom what has caused Éowyn to drive him away from her at such a dire time."

"The loss of the child set his recovery back no few days indeed, for he was all of those things that you said, save for his arm remaining in a sling, though that disappeared the morning that we departed the White City."

"What details do you know of their separation?"

"Few," I admitted. "No more than what I have said, in truth. I spoke with Éowyn the day before we left. I thought she might relent and ask him back, but she remained steadfast, and she did not even send a message to him before we rode forth. He is utterly heartbroken to find himself suddenly again without a family, no matter how temporary the situation may be."

The king nodded again. "I know that were I to attempt to convince him that to go back to Minas Tirith was the right thing for him to do, he would misconstrue it."

"Aye, he would feel that you have no need of him either." _Damn you, Denethor!_

"And so," he said as we came to the area where the horses were being kept, "I shall do as he wishes and keep him as busy as his health will allow, but at the earliest moment possible I wish him to return home."

"As do I, my lord."

He found his own mount and the stableboy looked as if perhaps he wondered if he might have tended the king's horse incorrectly somehow when Aragorn asked him to fetch a brush. "Then we are agreed. I shall do all that I can to keep his mind from his predicament since it seems that it is not of his own making. But at the same time, I shall keep him at such tedious tasks that I can devise that he might at least be coaxed to sleep more." The groom returned with the brush, and Aragorn began to run it over his mount's coat. "And if ever you cannot find your nephew, assume that I have drugged him into a stupor to force him into resting."

I was uncertain that I had heard the king correctly. "My lord?"

"As we speak, he is lying insensible in my pavilion, Imrahil. I cannot in good conscience allow his poor condition to continue. He is in need of rest and proper nourishment, and I intend to see that he receives both of these whether he wants them or not."

"Ever has he been neglectful of himself when faced with troubling circumstances, and Boromir often forced him to sleep or eat as well." I rested my hand upon the king's shoulder, and he stopped his work and turned to face me. "I thank you, my lord, for caring about my nephew so much, but do you think it is right to steal his life from him by keeping him constantly drugged?"

Aragorn uncharacteristically did not meet my eye. "It is a temporary solution, I admit." He sighed heavily before he continued. "I promised Boromir that I would watch over his little brother, and I fear that I have made poor work of it so far." Finally he looked at me. "But it is more than the promise I made that drives me to treat Faramir as my own brother. I know of the great turmoil that he suffered because of his father's lack of regard for him. I know of the great pains that he took to keep Gondor safe during the war, the sacrifices that he was forced to make for the sake of his country. He deserves to have no more pain or trouble in his life, and to see him suffering once again makes me exceedingly wroth, though I could not even begin to tell you with whom I am angry exactly."

I nodded. "I understand. I feel the very same way, my lord." As I watched the King of Gondor swiftly brush his mount's coat, I realized that my anger was mostly directed at myself for not being more assertive with my grief-stricken nephew when he had informed me of his daft plan to come again to this place. "How long shall Faramir sleep, my lord?"

"If I dosed him correctly, he should sleep until late tomorrow morning, giving me enough time to plan what next to do for him."

"Boromir could not have taken better care of his little brother, Aragorn. And I know that were he still with us, he would be very grateful to you as well." I placed my hand upon his shoulder. "Come, let us find something to drink and relax for a short while, my lord. I can see that you have been sleeping very little, and now with this added worry, I hope you might take your ease with me even if only for a few minutes."

Aragorn nodded, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Thank you, Imrahil. You are a very wise man."

As we walked toward the tents where the foodstuffs were kept, I wondered just how much weight my being wise actually held when I had been unable to sway Faramir or Éowyn with it.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Since it has been so very, very long since I have updated this story, here is a summary of what's happened so far:

Éowyn, Faramir, Lothíriel, and Imrahilreturn to Minas Tirith from the River Poros, so Faramir can further recover from his injuries and spend some time with his pregnant wife. Éomer came to visit from Edoras at the behest of Éowyn.

Lothíriel informs Imrahil that shewishes to be married, and Imrahil suggests Éomer as a possibility for a husband. Try as they might, though, Éomer and Lothíriel cannot seem toget along very well.

Meanwhile, Éowyn becomes very moody, claiming that she thinks Faramir cares more about his unborn son than he does for her. When Éowyn comes down with a fever and loses the baby, she decides that she no longer wants her husband near her and demands that he leave her sickroom. Faramir, in an attempt to make her change her mind, informs her that he is leaving Minas Tirith, but to his chagrin, she agrees, showing little emotion about his impending departure.

Faramir and Imrahil leave Minas Tirith for the River Poros as Faramir hopes that he might help Aragorn until Éowyn calls him back to her side. When Éomer finds out a short time later that Faramir has left town, he and his men saddle up and follow after him. Lothíriel, fearing for Faramir's safety from the King of Rohan's wrath, chases after the Rohirrim by herself.

Faramir and Imrahil arrive at the River Poros camp and Aragorn is shocked and confused about what's happened between his steward and Éowyn, but does not press Faramir for too much information because the steward is on the verge of physical and mental collapse. The king almost immediately drugs Faramir, trying to force him to rest. Éomer and his guards stop in Pelargir in search of some ale, and he finds himself separated from his riders and pressed into enduring a night of hospitality at the Steward of Pelargir's palace. Lothíriel arrives in the city a short time later, her appearance in complete disarray. Unable to enter the better neighborhoods of Pelargir since she is mistaken for a thief and a harlot, the princess luckily runs across a Haradrim man named Zaim Ghazi who offers her the hospitality of his household and the companionship of his four wives

I think that's it. :)

And now, here's chapter 12.

* * *

Faramir 

I could not recall lying down, and I was briefly alarmed when I awakened in unfamiliar surroundings before I remembered that it was Aragorn's own camp bed on which I rested. Glancing around nervously and silently cursing my own weakness, I was both surprised and relieved to find myself alone in the large pavilion. It was dark outside, but some lamps had been lit, and I shuddered, thinking how deeply I must have been sleeping not to have heard anyone moving about me. From the deep quiet of the camp, I knew it must have been very late. I sat up gingerly, quietly cursing my sore muscles, my abominably aching head. I would slip out, hopefully unnoticed and find a private tent of my own in which to rest.

But, though I was loath to remain there, in truth, I was not feeling well at all, and to rest was much more preferable to going out and risking collapsing in front of the soldiers as I had done the last time I had been in this camp. I did not have Éowyn to rescue me from myself this time; I had to be careful. The familiar pain returned to my breast as her last cold words to me echoed within my tortured mind. Cautiously moving to the table upon which Aragorn had spread his maps, I spied ink and blank parchment, and I felt compelled to write a letter to my wife, hoping the king would not mind my borrowing his correspondence supplies in addition to his bed.

After a moment of staring at the blank page and wondering where I should begin, I resolved myself to my task and began to write:

* * *

To my wife, Éowyn, 

I told you that I would inform you when I had settled into my temporary home, and I am as much atease now as I can be under the circumstances. I am certain that it shall not cheer you to learn that I am again at the River Poros with the king.

* * *

I was not happy with my terse words nor with my shaky handwriting, but Éowyn deserved to know where I had ended my forced withdrawal from her, though it was unclear to me now whether it was she or I who had actually forced it. It saddened me that never before had I looked upon writing a letter to my wife as a chore, but it felt like it this time. When I had finished, I read over the one paragraph, noting the short, clipped manner in which I wrote, the anger and frustration that were both apparent in my words. But as much as I thought that I should change my words to make the tone softer, I could not. Éowyn deserved to know exactly how I felt. With a sigh, I signed my name at the bottom and then folded the letter before locating some wax and melting some upon the junction of the parchment. Lastly, I pressed the Ring of the Stewards into it and then set it aside to give to a messenger later. 

It was not very surprising to me that Aragorn entered the pavilion then, though from the expression upon his face, I could tell that he had expected to find me yet sleeping, and he said as much. "How fare you?" he continued, and out of courtesy I did not wish to answer him because I did not wish to complain to him. Sitting opposite me at the table, he repeated his question, his tone gentle yet insistent.

"It matters not, Aragorn," I muttered, not daring to meet his eyes.

"Faramir," he commanded in his most kingly voice, "I would know how you fare this night."

If he truly wished to know, I would tell him. I finally raised my eyes to his face and spoke. "I am unwell, my lord, and not likely to be better any time soon," I answered obediently, though in a surly tone. I felt anger rising within me, but I did not stop it as I continued. "I physically ache, and my head is beating like a drum, though the pain cannot compare to that within my soul, which is beyond the telling." I stood shakily as my voice rose. "I cannot bear this, Aragorn! This waiting, this insufferable waiting, it cannot continue much longer, or I do not know what I shall do!"

"Faramir . . ."

"As if the baby were not enough! She has torn my very heart from my chest . . ."

"Peace, Faramir!" The king's voice forcefully interrupted my tirade, before it became gentle once more. "You are overwrought, my friend. Whatever has caused this rift between you cannot last, for you two need one another."

"I fear that the lady no longer has any need of me, Aragorn, and unless something changes soon, I shall walk alone for the rest of my days!"

"You speak foolishly, Faramir," he said softly, though I could sense anger couched in his words. "Give your lady wife a little more time. I cannot believe she will fail you in the end."

"Forgive me, Aragorn," I murmured, bowing my head, uncertain if he was wroth with me. "I should not have burdened you with this."

"Nonsense. Now, sit. I have some work for you if you feel up to it."

I looked again to the king's face. "In the middle of the night?"

"I have not been sleeping well either. However, if you would rather return to your rest, I would not stop you."

"Nay, my lord, I will serve you in whatever manner you require," I told him, finally resuming my seat.

"Fine," he said. "I need you to catalog my maps for me. I cannot keep them all organized, and I need a better system to manage them while I remain here. Will you do it?"

I was confused by his request as I knew that there were others who served the king in a clerical capacity, and he knew full well how disorganized my own rooms were. But the look in his eye was one of faint wistfulness, so I shrugged off the feeling of inferiority and nodded my assent.

"Thank you," he said before he added, "I shall have some tea brought for us to help us through the remainder of this long night."

"As you wish, Aragorn," I replied, glad for something to do besides dwelling on my own sorry state of affairs.

* * *

Éomer 

Though the accommodations in Abad-en-Arahir were very comfortable, I did not sleep well, instead spending most of the night peering through the window which overlooked the front of the immense property. I wondered at the several companies of guards that were marching up and down the street, Rath Elendili, before the palace. It occurred to me that Lord Holmar must be a very suspicious ruler to keep such heavy guard in a quarter of the city that seemed to be already very secure.

Even more odd, especially for someone who seemed so interested in his own safety, was the steady stream of visitors that were ushered through the front gates throughout the long night. Most of them simply entered the gardens, spoke shortly with the guards and then departed, but a few were actually admitted to the palace, and I was more than a little surprised to see so many men who looked little better than common street thugs come and go. It was obvious to me that Holmar, Lord Steward of Pelargir and Provincial Steward of Lebennin, was involved in some underhanded dealings with the criminal element of the city.

If I had any inkling of where Holmar's meeting rooms were in relation to my bed chamber, I would have tried to get close enough to eavesdrop, but as it was, I could do little but plan what I would do when next I met with the man.

When dawn finally arrived, I was already fully dressed, and I decided to take it upon myself to find some breakfast for myself while at the same time learning anything I could about this enormous and strange place. Quietly I stepped into the corridor, relieved and somewhat amazed not to find a guard posted outside of my door. I chose to walk in the direction that I had not been yet and slipped down the hallway as silently as my riding boots would allow. All of the doors along the hallway were closed, and I wondered if other guests of state lay behind them, drowsing in the early morning light. I decided to find out.

I opened several of the doors, finding no one and nothing of interest behind any of them before I heard footsteps approaching, and as I softly closed the last door, I turned and began walking toward the sound, attempting to look as innocent and lost as I could muster. When the guard rounded the corner and saw me, he started, asking me what I thought I was doing wandering the halls unaccompanied.

"What a pack of layabouts there is in this city!" I roared. "I have been awake for hours awaiting someone to fetch me to break my fast and yet I remain hungry. Was I simply to sit in my room awaiting starvation?"

The guard's attitude changed tremendously as he faced the wrath of the King of the Mark, and I was immensely cheered to see him almost cowering before me in his fancy plate armor. "I was unaware that you wanted to eat so early, my lord. No one informed us of your preferences."

"My preferences haven't seemed to matter here since I arrived, but I will eat now."

"Yes, my lord. Please, follow me."

I followed the meek fellow back the way I had originally come, passing my own door before turning to descend the wide stairway that marked the center of the immense palace. After only a couple more minutes of walking, I found myself in a cavernous dining hall furnished with long tables surrounded by chairs that could easily have seated two hundred people. One long wall faced the outside of the building, and through the immense windows that spanned the entire length, I looked at a wide expanse of the harbor and the Barad Aerhir that jutted from the center of it. It was an impressive sight, and I was slightly disappointed when the guard showed me to a seat near a fireplace along the opposite wall instead of one close to the windows. Begging my forgiveness, the guard explained that he needed to tell the cooks that I was ready to eat. I waved my hand disinterestedly at him as he departed, but the moment he had passed out of the room, I stood and trotted to the next doorway, to see what lay behind it.

Within was a wide corridor, much wider than the one where we had been walking before, and I was heartened to find a place that I recognized, as this was the entrance hall to the palace. Lord Holmar's official rooms were not far from here, and I decided to find the man, determined to find out the secrets that he hid within these thick marble walls. I decided the best way to reach my destination was to stride confidently as if I belonged there. It was not difficult for me.

Passing a few guards posted within the hallways, no one stopped me, and when I reached the door to the throne room, I found it unguarded. I realized he might not be out of bed yet, especially with all the strange visitors he entertained in the night, but I really wanted to find him, so I entered the room and moved straight to the door behind the throne where I knew his antechamber would lie. Still there were no guards.

Inside the antechamber there was a lone guard, who looked surprised to see me, stationed beside a door that I assumed led to Holmar's office. "I am looking for Lord Holmar. I was told I might find him in his office."

"He is not to be disturbed, my lord," replied the guard, but I would not be put off so easily.

"I was to join him for breakfast this morning, but the food grows cold and still I see no sign of the steward. Am I to be kept waiting all day? I am the King of Rohan! I demand to see him . . . NOW!"

The guard looked stunned, but there was a slight commotion inside the door, and then it opened and Lord Holmar was peering out at me with his usual sour expression upon his face. "King Éomer, good morning," he said, coming into the antechamber and closing the door behind him. "I trust you slept well."

"I did not."

The Steward of Pelargir looked uncomfortable and seemed uncertain of what he could do to placate me. I was glad to see it, since he had caused me naught but trouble thus far. "Have you partaken of our excellent cooks' morning meal yet?"

"I would have thought you could have heard me bellowing through the door, Lord Steward. I have not. I do not like to be kept waiting for my meals."

"Of course not." He attempted to smile but it was little more than a weak grimace. For such a rich and powerful man, I could not understand how he could be so damnably unhappy all of the time. He gestured toward the doorway that led back to the corridor and even opened it for me. After I had passed through, I assumed my most regal stride, silently daring him to keep up with me. He was nearly panting when we arrived back in the dining hall.

My guard was standing near where he had left me, looking more than a little anxious at my disappearance. He rushed forth when he spied me with the steward, apologizing to his lord for losing track of me, and I could do naught but smile at his discomfiture as the little man escorted us to our table before assuming a stance a few paces away from us.

I assumed my seat and the steward took the one across from me, eyeing me with more than a little disdain upon his weak features. I had no chance to speak before the kitchen door opened and a line of serving girls entered the hall, bearing trays of all manner of foods, some familiar, some not. I did not wait for them to serve me as I helped myself to several of the boiled eggs that were piled upon the platter closest to me. Lord Holmar looked a little sickened, and I asked him if he was ill.

"No, my lord. I just do not usually partake of food so early in the day."

I chuckled at his discomfort. "Why not? Breakfast is the best meal!"

"Hmm, yes," he mumbled, watching me shovel food into my mouth.

"I wanted to ask you about something," I said, changing the subject abruptly as I reached for the honey cakes.

"What is it?" he asked, picking up a piece of bread and tearing off a corner.

"What are you afraid of here in your closely-guarded palace in your closely-guarded quarter? You have enough guards marching through these fancy streets to guard the entire city of Minas Tirith, I deem."

He was shocked by my question and did not bother trying to hide it. "Hmm, war is always a distinct possibility in this area of Gondor. We must remain ever vigilant for attack from the south."

"Oh? Are you expecting someone specific?" I asked between mouthfuls of jugged hare.

He cleared his throat noncommitally before taking a sip of wine. "The happenings in Pelargir and more specifically, Neldëlendin, are none of your affair, my lord."

I slammed my fist upon the tabletop, upsetting his wine and causing him to jump in the process. "It is my affair if I'm here when it is attacked!" I shouted, hoping that he might see my point of view.

"Very true," he finally managed to say. "But no one is holding you here. You are free to continue your journey to the river."

I could not go now. My curiosity needed satisfaction, and if it turned out that his secretiveness was apt to lead to yet more problems for Gondor, I could depart then, taking word to Aragorn with all haste. I sat back in my chair, still eating an egg as I appraised him. "I think I would like to stay a while," I said smugly, crossing my arms across my chest. "Your hospitality is to my liking after all."

For a moment I thought he might object, but then he remembered his precious reputation and closed his mouth. Standing abruptly, obviously finished with breakfast and with me, he spoke. "If I happen to hear anything that might concern you, I shall send word to you. Good day, Lord Éomer." Without another word or even a glance back at me, he left the room to tend to the affairs of his city, I assumed.

I would have laughed at the ridiculousness of his behavior if I had not been so concerned by the fear I had spied in his grey eyes.

* * *

Lothíriel 

I was awakened from my languid sleep by someone gently shaking me. When I opened my eyes, I found Aisha smiling down upon me, her veil absent for the nonce. She was a beautiful young woman, and I smiled at her and sat up, bidding her a good morning. The other women were awake as well, gathered upon the floor in the center of the chamber, sharing a large platter of fruit amongst themselves. The eldest of them, Hafsah, waved me over with a smile and I joined them for breakfast.

Zaim's first three wives were having an animated conversation amongst themselves in Haradaic, and Aisha translated some of it for me. I was amused to find that these women, whose culture was so very different from my own, were not so very different from me, as they discussed fashion and made plans to visit the huge market that had lately been springing up daily at the Fiddler's Green, the only public park of size in the whole of Pelargir. When they mentioned some of the prices they had found there for silken cloth and gold jewelry, I begged to be allowed to come with them. Though I knew I should return straightaway to Minas Tirith, I was certain that a day or so here would not make that much difference in the punishment I would receive when it was widely learned what I had foolishly done.

The wives seemed amused by my enthusiasm and readily agreed though I had to promise to wear a veil over my face in public, else I would be seen as a maiden of marriageable age, and I would necessarily require an escort. I agreed to their condition, and Aisha showed me the proper way to drape the fluid fabric over my face. I paused before we departed to admire myself in their looking glass, enamored of the mysterious air that the veil and unfamiliar clothing lent to me, and brainlessly I wondered what Lord Éomer might think of such an outfit.

Laughing, we filed into the street and walked northeasterly toward the Fiddler's Green, and I reveled in how free it felt to be walking safely through the streets of this place, accompanied only by other women who seemed completely at ease in their surroundings.

The market itself was amazing in the array of fine goods that it offered, and the prices were very good by Gondorian standards. I wished that I had brought more money, though I had enough left in my purse to purchase a bolt of diaphanous emerald green silk that I knew would be more than enough fabric to create a fantastic gown with which to attract men to me at the next state cotillion in Dol Amroth. I was happy when Hafsah stepped in to strike a good bargain for me, and she managed to drive the price down to almost half of what I had been willing to pay.

While gathering up my purchase, intending to merely follow the others for the remainder of our time there and enjoy myself, I thought I saw a tall man dressed in the uniform of a Rider of Rohan. As he was not mounted, I thought it highly unlikely that I had seen what I thought, but curiosity drove me to seek him out. Slowly I walked toward his position, careful to try to appear nonchalant so I would not draw attention to myself.

When I drew quite close to the man, he suddenly turned my way, and I immediately recognized his face. It was Ingmar, one of Lord Éomer's personal guards. I knew for certain that the King of Rohan was indeed in Pelargir then, and I glanced about me, wondering if he was nearby. When Ingmar began to walk toward me, I was certain that he had somehow recognized me in my strange southern garb, but he stepped by me without a second glance, and I felt triumphant that I would not have to face a scolding on this day at least.

Beyond that small victory, I was offered hope that for as long as he remained in the city, Lord Éomer himself might be able to take charge of my safety, thus saving me from a tongue-lashing by my father. With a smile, I returned to my friends, keeping my eyes open for any signs of the king during the remainder of the day.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Thanks very much to Rosie26 for beta and to all of my online friends who have offered me their support. Thanks also to you, the readers, whose encouraging reviews really brighten my days!

* * *

My Dearest Arwen, 

I hope that this letter finds you both well and happy. Forgive me for not writing to you sooner, but I have been very occupied here doing the work of two since Faramir had departed for Minas Tirith with Éowyn. Perhaps, my love, you might be able to explain to me the fine detail of why my steward has returned before his month alone with his wife is finished? He has told me only the bare bones of the story of their parting, and I was very saddened to learn that they lost the babe, but is that all that has driven this wedge between them? Is there anything that you can do to convince the good lady that she has done her husband a grave injustice?

I very much fear for Faramir's health as he eats very little and sleeps even less, though amazingly he has already been able to contribute a great deal to our campaign here. He sleeps now as I write this, though I had to add some of the herbs that I use for my sleeping potions to his tea without his knowledge to accomplish even this small victory. He remains as thin as he was when I saw him last, and I hope to be successful in preventing his decline. If Éowyn does not send him proof that she yet loves him soon, I deem that he shall be the first man whom I shall have the displeasure of seeing actually die of a broken heart. I find it extremely difficult to watch him as he suffers in silence, though Ilúvatar knows that the man received much practice at it at the hands of Lord Denethor.

In the midst of all of this toil, I do manage to think of you often. I fervently hope that all of this business with the Southrons shall be concluded rapidly so that I might return home to you as soon as possible. I miss you so, and my soul grows weary from this trouble between Éowyn and Faramir. I anxiously await your reply in hopes that together we might be able to set them to rights again.

I love you,

Estel

* * *

Arwen 

Though I was loath to share personal correspondence from my husband with anyone, I hoped that his words might have some effect upon Éowyn, who now spent most of her time sitting in the garden behind the steward's residence, staring into nothingness. When I asked what her thoughts were, she either remained silent, or she told me to mind my own business. I thought perhaps if she knew how badly her behavior was affecting her husband, she might be more apt to call him back. So I went to visit her again, hoping this time might be different.

"Éowyn, I have something for you to hear."

"I am too tired, Arwen," she said, her voice edged with bitterness.

"Merely to listen to my husband's words should not tax you too much," I said mildly before reading only the second paragraph of Estel's letter to her. Her eyes were glistening with tears when I had finished but she remained silent. "Do you understand that you are slowly killing your husband?" I asked, hoping to spur her to some action other than her self-loathing and self-pity.

Her mouth worked, but no words escaped until she said, "I do not doubt it, Arwen." Finally she looked at me, and the tears rolled down her cheeks. "But how can I care about his feelings when I feel so dead inside?"

I approached her, intending to sit next to her, but she rose abruptly before I could. "Éowyn . . . "

"I do not care about him now, and I do not know if I ever again shall feel anything for him! I do not know if I can ever feel anything for anyone again!" Despite her weakness, she nearly ran into her house, and I decided not to follow her, lamenting that her words held the sound of truth within them at last. I fervently prayed that their love should not crumble to dust before Éowyn found herself once again.

* * *

Lothíriel 

It was not until I spied Fram moving through the crowded market that I decided that I might follow him and find Lord Éomer more quickly. I explained to my newfound friends that I had seen someone I recognized and told them I would meet them later at Zaim's home. They nodded agreeably, bidding me a good evening, even offering to carry my purchases home with them so I would not be burdened with them.

When they had gone, I panicked a little, having lost sight of Éomer's bodyguard in the crowd. Searching frantically, I pushed my way through the people until, to my dismay, I found myself face to face with him, or I should say, face to leather-armored chest. I glanced up at the guard, but he did not seem to even notice me as he scanned the crowd for someone or something. I stood to the side long enough to let him pass, and then I stayed close behind him, knowing eventually he must return to Lord Éomer's side.

He wandered a great deal, but I saw no other Rohirrim in the short time we remained at the market. Eventually he seemed to grow tired of his surroundings, and he moved toward the edge of the Fiddler's Green with me only a few paces behind him. He was of a like height with Lord Éomer and his strides were long and purposeful, but I managed to keep him within sight, noting the direction he was traveling in case I lost him again.

Very quickly we came upon the wider road that runs the length of the Cheraint Pharazön. It was then that I lost sight of him again, and I cursed silently, wondering where he had gone. I had just about given up hope of finding him again, when I turned and found his ornate leather breastplate just inches from my face again. But this time when I looked up, Fram was looking down at me, a scowl upon his face. Before I could explain, he had seized my arm and was pulling me along behind him until we were out of the worst of the crowding.

Turning upon me, he demanded to know why I was following him, accusing me of being a thief. I shook my head, trying to make my eyes appear sufficiently innocent beneath his angry appraisal of me. I did not wish to reveal myself to him here in the middle of this place, for to uncover my face in public was not done. Looking quite disgusted with me, he released me and continued on as if I did not exist, but I remained behind him. Every now and then he would glance back toward me but he did not stop or slow or even take any action to lose me.

Only a few moments later, he stepped onto the stone bridge which leads to Lord's Town and then turned as if daring me to come further. I would not be thwarted and came to stand before him, hoping now that he could recognize me by the sight of my eyes alone.

"Are you a harlot?" he asked outright, and I dropped my head from a mixture of amusement and exasperation, before I looked back at him and shook my head silently. "Tell me your name." Again I shook my head, more urgently this time. I stepped closer to him and gave him my sternest glare. His scowl deepened, but then with a suddenness that almost made me laugh, his expression changed to one of shocked recognition, and I thought he might bow to me. Instead he bent closer to me. "My lady," he whispered, "what are you doing in Pelargir? And dressed like that?"

"Please, Fram," I whispered, clutching at his hand, "I must find Lord Éomer."

"I do not know his exact whereabouts though he is in the city. We were separated at the barracks, and he was escorted to the home of the lord of Pelargir."

I nodded. "Lord Holmar would expect him to spend at least one night in his palace."

"That is what we were told, though it seems a strange custom. Where are you staying, my lady?"

"Surprisingly enough I have found some very comfortable rooms in Haradrim Town."

His eyes widened in shock. "Are you safe there amongst that pack of dogs?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yes, Fram. I am well-cared for but I need an escort back to Minas Tirith." It was beginning to grow dark, and I didn't want to test the limits of hiding behind my veil while I tried to return to Haradrim town at night. "I must go, but I will be at Fiddler's Green again tomorrow around midday," I said hopefully.

"Then I will send someone for you tomorrow. A pair of Éomer-King's personal guards should be able to return you safely home."

"Actually, I wish for Lord Éomer to personally see me back."

Fram was obviously confused, but he nodded, adding, "I will see if he can be found, my lady. In any case, someone will come to you at the market tomorrow."

"Thank you, Fram. I shall watch for you and your men." Had it not been for the veil I would have kissed him. Instead I squeezed his hand in farewell before I turned and hurried back to Zaim's home as quickly as I could move through the crowded streets.

-ooOoo-

I was somewhat surprised when Zaim met me at the door of his abode. A young boy who looked a great deal like him held his hand and stared at me gravely, and I realized that he was Zaim's son. "How did you enjoy your day, Lady Lothíriel?" he asked as he gestured me inside and then offered me a seat near the fire.

He sent the boy away with a soft word as I answered him. "I had a lovely day, Zaim." I felt uncomfortable beneath his dark gaze suddenly, and I wondered if I had done something to anger my host.

"My wives tell me you met with a friend today in the marketplace. Does this mean you shall be leaving us soon?"

"Though you and your wives have been most gracious to share your home with me, I shall indeed be leaving soon if I can procure an escort. I need to return to Minas Tirith as soon as possible since I have many people worried about me, unfortunately."

Zaim nodded in understanding. "I knew you would leave eventually, but I think my wives shall very much miss you," he told me. "It is long since they have had such an interesting visitor. But I am happy that you have found someone in this city you can trust, a very rare occurrence in Pelargir to be certain. If there is anything more I can do for you, do not hesitate to ask."

I smiled a little behind my veil. "I appreciate your offer, Zaim. You have been so generous, and your wives are very friendly. If ever you are in Dol Amroth, do not hesitate to call at the Prince's Citadel."

He raised an eyebrow. "Dol Amroth," he said, smiling a little. "I have always wondered what the shores near Dol Amroth were like. I have never been closer to that land than where we are sitting now, but I have heard that the landscape there is breathtakingly beautiful."

I shrugged. "I guess I am used to it since I have lived there my entire life, but many come to view the sea from Amroth's great heights and marvel at its vastness. Really I prefer the shops," I giggled.

"Ah, yes, I heard from Aisha that you were quite taken with the market today."

"Yes. I intend to return there tomorrow."

"Again so soon?" he smiled. "I am pleased that you enjoyed yourself so much during your stay with us."

"Thank you, Zaim." I rose, feeling nervous again, glad for the veil that hid my features from this man.

"Oh, please!" he exclaimed, rising quickly and gesturing toward his wives' bedchamber. "You must be tired after your long day, Lothíriel."

"Yes, a little," I admitted. I thanked him once again and moved into the other room, suddenly inexplicably glad to be out of his sight. I very much looked forward to the morrow when I could finally flee Pelargir, hoping never again to return.

* * *

Aragorn 

"Faramir?"

I questioned him as he swayed slightly when he stood up from the table where we had been poring over scouting reports all evening. I had thought that spending some time in the fresh morning air might do him some good, since he had not expressed much interest in being anywhere but my pavilion since he had arrived. It had taken some doing to force him into the open air, but eventually he agreed to attend me while I read through the endless stream of parchments. Of course, my steward read through them as well, his brow becoming more furrowed as he finished each one. It seemed that he wished to say something to me, but instead he stood abruptly, and I wondered if he might fall over with weariness.

"I am well, Aragorn."

It was an automatic response by then, but I took his word for it, though I continued to watch him carefully. "What are you thinking, my friend?"

He shook his head slowly. "I am thinking that the Haradrim cannot have just disappeared as if they had never existed, but that is what these reports seem to be indicating. I cannot believe that they only attacked the ranger outpost for sport, though that seems a popular opinion based on what my uncle tells me he overhears. Perhaps, the Southrons did it only to draw you out of the city, my lord," he opined, and I caught sight of a flash of anger in his grey eyes.

"If so, they certainly are not being hasty to further their plan."

"No, indeed not," he agreed.

"I am nearly ready to return the bulk of the army to Minas Tirith, leaving enough here to rebuild the outpost and man it more heavily than before. The men are growing restless with idleness. What say you, Faramir?"

"I know not, Aragorn. My thoughts have been muddled of late, but something in my mind tells me that the Haradrim are not through with us yet."

"We have enough supplies to last the army yet another week before I shall have to procure more from Pelargir or Minas Tirith. I shall delay my final decision until then."

"Very good, my lord," he said, and it seemed he wished to speak further, but instead he turned his gaze toward the River Poros.

I hated to interrupt his reverie, but I said, "Speak, friend. What do you require?"

He turned back toward me after a moment. "I wish to return Madach to his rightful home. I wonder if you would allow me some time to do that on the morrow?"

"You need not ask permission, but this time you will take a full platoon of rangers with you. I will not see you harmed again."

Faramir did not argue. He simply bowed, thanking me quietly and returned to the interior of the pavilion to his own devices. I sat awhile longer and contemplated our exchange, eventually sighing and bowing my head in weariness. My steward was right; it was a near certainty that the Haradrim were not through with us. We would continue to remain vigilant until they made their next move.

* * *

Éomer 

I had spent most of the day wandering from room to room in the steward's palace, taking satisfaction in the various grimaces that crossed the face of the lone guard who had been assigned to accompany me wherever I decided to roam, though Lord Holmar's personal and official rooms were both closed to me. It was the only entertainment I could find in the whole of the vast building though it had occurred to me that it might be amusing to suddenly sprint across the polished marble floors if only to see if the unlucky man could keep up with me in his heavy armor.

"Lord Éomer, it grows late," he finally said. "You shall miss dinner."

I smiled broadly at his petulant reminder. "How thoughtful of you to think about my well-being!" I roared, slapping him upon the back as hard as I dared. I was rewarded with another grimace, though he straightened soon enough and escorted me back to the dining chamber.

Where Lord Holmar and I had been the only diners at the morning meal, tonight there were at least a score of people at the high table, lords and ladies both, eating what appeared to be soup. As I entered, all conversation ceased, but I strode to the table, finding an empty seat near the steward, and I sat down without a word.

"How nice of you to join us at last, Lord Éomer," said the steward, but then after a few soft titters of laughter, the conversation continued. After I had sampled the soup, finding it not to my liking, I looked around at my immediate dining companions. I was seated next to an older woman, dressed in pink, who seemed overwhelmed to be sitting next to the King of the Mark when I introduced myself to her. Her name was Brelwin. Her husband, Menborn of Gondor, who was sitting directly across from her did not seem as impressed. At my left hand was a younger fellow with reddish hair who was very friendly. He introduced himself as Anlong of Lossarnach, and he was by himself.

In the chair across from me sat a fat, bearded man who was more interested in the contents of his bowl than in anything else around him, but between bites he managed to give me his name: Briandon of Linhir, a merchant who dealt in leather and silk. I had assumed that this was a state dinner for the lords of the city, but I quickly found that everyone in my present company was a merchant from somewhere else. Anlong was pleased to give me the details of the unexpected invitation he had received a few weeks ago. Apparently the guests had been invited to Pelargir for a few days in order to discuss trade between the city and the remainder of Gondor.

By the time we had finished our pudding, I was well acquainted with my neighbors and Briandon invited me to join him in a nearby tavern for a tankard of ale. I could not have refused him even if I had wished to since I longed to be out of Abad-en-Arahir even if only for a few hours. Lord Holmar seemed equally relieved to see me away when I invited him along and he refused the invitation. But Anlong came along, and we walked together through the wide avenues, soon arriving at a tavern named the Spouting Whale Inn. Briandon ordered a round of Rohirric ale for us, and we continued our discussion at the bar.

"Forgive me, Éomer-King for assuming you were merely a merchant from Rohan. I was not expecting royalty to attend our dinner," stated Briandon with a smile.

"I was not invited," I admitted with a laugh, "but the Steward of Pelargir's hospitality is difficult to resist." I drank half of my ale and then asked them, "I wonder if you both might help me with something?" Both appeared eager, so I continued. "I would like for you both to create a diversion for me tonight. I intend to learn what underhanded dealings Lord Holmar is participating in."

"Underhanded?" questioned Anlong.

"Aye, I know he is up to something, and as I am close to the King of Gondor and the Steward of Gondor, I thought to reveal his plot to them in order to assure the security of the region."

Briandon chuckled, and his eyes danced merrily as he set down his empty mug. "I could think of no better cause with which to align myself. Besides, apart from the food, these meetings are generally boring. I could use some entertainment."

"What say you, Anlong?" I asked the younger man.

The young man shrugged nervously. "Though this is my first journey into Pelargir, I have heard rumors about the dishonesty of the governors here. But my father warned me to be careful. I do not wish our business to be cast in a poor light because of something foolish I might do."

I admired his honesty and sought to reassure him. "The risk shall be all mine in this pursuit. The only thing I require from you two is a diversion."

"I can do that alone," said Briandon, "though it would be easier with two of us." He looked at Anlong, and as we both waited for the young merchant's final decision, I had three more ales brought to us.

After a few moments of silence, Anlong, with a shrug and a smile, finally agreed to help, and I downed the remainder of my ale before I stood. "I am returning to the palace now. You two stay as late as you wish." I slammed three gold pieces onto the bar. "Drink as much as you like so long as you're sober enough to stagger back to the palace a few hours before first light. Once you reach the corridor where the guestrooms are, make as much noise as you can, and when the guards and servants are busy trying to shoo you into your rooms, I shall disappear from mine."

Briandon grinned at me. "A very good plan, my lord."

"How will you get back into your room when you are finished searching for information?" asked Anlong.

"Never mind that, boy. The guards, Lord Holmar, and I have almost come to an understanding that I will never be where they wish me to be at any given time, so I am not too worried about it so long as I do not miss breakfast!" We all laughed heartily, and then I slipped into the cool night, hoping all this trouble I was going to would not be for nothing.


End file.
